Sorority
by Sgt. Curbstomp
Summary: Queens of War. Daughters of Khorne. Angels of the Blood God. This is their story. Rated M for profanity and graphic violence.
1. Introduction

**2-28-15: WE GOT A TUMBLR! Username is sororityofviolence. This is where I'll inform followers of new chapters (and release excerpts as teasers), post random facts about the Sorority, and they themselves may post something every once in a while, and where any fanart, requested or (eventually) commissioned will be featured. Speaking of art, the person I hired is only drawing four of the main ten Sisters, mostly because she's busy and wasn't wholeheartedly involved in it. But it's okay, I told her she's not at fault. **

**But either way, if you have a tumblr and like this story, feel free to give me a follow or ask a question either to me or one of the Sisters.**

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_Sorority_

The 41st millennium. An era of eternal war. Across the galaxy stretched the Imperium of Man, beset from all sides by foul Xenos and nightmarish creatures of the Warp. The massive empire was not a happy place, for many of its citizens were disillusioned by the wide-scale oppression and disregard for life that they committed the ultimate heresy of defecting to the Imperium's many enemies, submitting their souls to damnation in the faintest hope of relief. While most of these wayward folk simply said, "I quit," a rare few were actually raised amongst Mankind's foes, fighting their fellow humans in the name of their masters.

Such was the case of the Sorority of Violence, a fierce, bloodthirsty cult of warrior-women who paid tribute to Khorne, God of rage, war, blood, and hate. Rightfully feared amongst those who knew of them, the few who survived their encounter with the Sisterhood told of murderous lunatics who had eyes of vicious gold, who soaked, streaked, and otherwise styled their filthy hair with human blood, and sharpened their nails and teeth into claws and fangs, like she-wolves or vampires. From another perspective, despite these barbaric alterations, and the scars earned or self-inflicted by many of the Sisters, a small few of them could be considered somewhat attractive, but it would be folly to try and flatter them with such comments, for all that mattered to them was killing in Khorne's name.

The Sorority planted itself like a festering wound in the Phlegyas Sector, indiscriminately razing Imperial strongholds and butchering those occupying them without mercy. Like a bolt of lightning, the Sisters would come seemingly from nowhere, screaming blasphemy towards the Emperor, their chain-weapons snarling thirst for blood and demands for violence, cutting through armor and flesh alike. Almost none would be left alive in their wake, for the cult gave no quarter and never expected any in return. Any who did not immediately receive death were given it later once captured by the Sorority and forced to father new members, being sacrificed to Khorne when deemed no longer useful. Some compared their ferocity and lust for battle to the old World Eaters Traitor Legion, but they were no Astartes, for the Sorority was too small to fight on such a large scale, did not have the advantage of the many genetic and daemonic enhancements a Chaos Space Marine enjoyed, and their tactical doctrine could be considered little more than banditry. All they relied on was their martial skill, the fear they spread, and raw determination to kill, maim, and burn.

But for all of this talk of terror and murder, they were still a single cult of two thousand members in a galaxy populated by trillions of people. It is here, however, where their story is told. Here, you will find the bloody mark they made in the Dark Millennium. This is the tale of the Sorority of Violence, the Queens of War, the Daughters of Khorne, the Angels of the Blood God.


	2. Chapter One: Dramatis Personae

**Okay, here it is, the place where you all will meet the cast of this story. By the way, there's a pop culture reference here, and if you spot it, say so in your review.**

**Speaking of which, please do leave a review, that way I can improve any flaws in my writing and so you can say you found any references I sneak into this story.**

**Thanks to Disciple of Ember for helping me fix this story and make these girls the blood-spattered ragamuffins they truly are. (heheh, ragamuffins. I love that word.)**

**That's about it.**

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_Chapter One: Dramatis Personae_

As one could expect in a cult dedicated to Khorne, the Sorority of Violence was full to the brim with lunatics, freaks, and psychopaths, but not every Sister was foaming-at-the-mouth mad. Some were cold-hearted sociopaths, and others channeled their insanity into obsessions or vendettas. But all, no matter how mentally unhinged, were incredibly efficient in their dealing of death and mayhem wherever they wandered.

Like the current Mistress of the Sisterhood herself, known only by the name of Massacre, for example. Even at a glance, she looked very out of place as chief of the Sorority, for she was, compared to most Sisters, quite good-looking, even gorgeous. A dirty blonde in a bastardized Commissar's uniform (with its original owner's skull hanging from her belt, and Imperial sigil replaced with the Mark of Khorne), Massacre was one of the calmer Sisters, being incredibly cunning and savvy, using her sharp tongue to negotiate potential alliances and means of getting to new battles, her eviscerator and storm bolter taking care of any disagreements. She did, however, have her violent outbursts from time to time, and the rest knew when to stay away.

The same cannot be said for High Priestess Carnage, though. Armed with a chainaxe, a bolt pistol, and a literally murderous temper, the raven-haired 21-year-old was slightly above average-looking at best, but poetically, she possessed an air of dark, prideful regality. She often got into fights with Massacre, believing that because Carnage had become High Priestess (which required 400 kills) in just five years, Khorne surely had His eye on her, which the Mistress considered childish arrogance. Her claim does seem to have some merit, however, for Carnage lost sight in her right eye in battle, a pair of scars running down that side of her face, the eye itself now a milky white. While this may seem a setback, Carnage views it as a challenge, fully confident in her ferocious fighting ability to finally take over as Mistress of the Sisterhood.

While Carnage thought of her disfigurement as a way to further prove herself, the only other High Priestess, a blonde named Cutthroat, used hers as a weapon as much as her bearded power axe. When she was younger, an enemy's knife pierced her right cheek, splitting it open. And although it did heal, it never actually closed, resulting in a gash so deep one could see _inside her mouth_, watching the few remaining muscles contract and lengthen when she spoke and her teeth move up and down. Combined with her youthful, minx-like looks, it was a downright _horrifying_ sight, even her fellow Sisters felt uncomfortable around her. Cutthroat's icy, calculating, distant demeanor further enhanced the aura of fear she generated, and often having enemies freeze in terror before being hacked apart.

Cutthroat was easily the closest thing the Sorority had to "sane." But the blonde Frenzy was the closest thing they had to "complete animal." Any semblance of good looks were destroyed by her addiction to combat drugs, resulting in a sallow, sunken face, incredibly bloodshot eyes, and a nearly emaciated figure. And it didn't end there, for her vision became red-tinted and sepia like, her speech was quick, short, and repetitive, and she had absolutely no problem going on all fours. In fact, Frenzy was so dependent on the stimulants that she wore a modified respirator mask, its cylinders now holding tubes that went into her nose, giving her a constant source of high so she could shred through foes with a pair of clawed gauntlets.

Just as insane, if not more so, than Frenzy was Lacerator, a short brunette. Unlike most of the Sorority, Lacerator clearly enjoyed herself while fighting, cackling madly with every swing of her chainaxe, not out of sadism but for the simple rush of combat. Easily the most sanguine (pun intended) Sister, she rarely frowned and would often begin laughing hysterically for no apparent reason, to the point where the whole Sorority thought of her as "off," even though madness was just a facet of everyday life for them. To reiterate, Lacerator was so psychotic amongst psychos that even they noticed.

Next in line was another brunette, a misanthropic cynic named Bloodmaw, after her ever-present splattering of blood surrounding her mouth. She could taunt, insult, and criticize just about anyone at any time, and it was a small wonder that nobody skirted the Sorority's rule of not killing each other when it came to Bloodmaw. Perhaps it was because she often won the fights that she inevitably started amongst the Sisters she'd insulted, and no one argued against her skills in combat. It had gotten to the point that if you were to question Bloodmaw's outward, vicious misanthropy, she'd answer with, "Because I can, and we need a putter-downer." Ironically enough, her face looked rather friendly, which could be misinterpreted as her being so. Unbeknownst to the rest of the Sorority, Bloodmaw had a secret shame in having a lovely singing voice, and would often quietly sing when she was all alone.

Whereas Bloodmaw talked very often, a dirty blonde named Huntress was practically mute. Not out of shyness, but as a personal choice, believing that the energy diverted to speaking was energy that could've been used for fighting. Whenever she did talk, it was to answer questions that could not be answered by nodding/shrugging and the occasional snarky comment. She had a narrow face with a somewhat beakish nose, which she usually hid with a black shemagh, yet the sleek, petite body of an assassin. Huntress' name derived from her method of collecting war trophies, stalking battlefields to collect a tooth from every 8th kill she'd made, like a predator looking for prey. To further this idea, she even fought in silence, coolly hacking and hewing foes with her power saber and eerie grace.

Like Huntress, a free-spirited young brunette named Knives had a degree of elegance on the battlefield, but unlike Huntress, that was exactly what she was going for. A meek (even mousy) looking, yet talented killer with an obsession for her namesake, Knives liked using her twin combat blades "Blood" and "Gore" to make elaborate, contrived, and often flashy kills, simply to challenge herself. Off the field, she was cult champion in Five Finger Fillet and other knife games, and would perfect various tricks she had taught herself to do, which conflicted with her attitude that suggested she'd rather take hits from a bong than trade them in fights. Knives owned exactly ten knives, excluding the ritual dagger of sharpened brass every initiated Sister carried. Including Blood and Gore, she had six smaller dirks and daggers on the back of her belt, and two in her boots, and liberally use them all in her quest to, in her own words, "Kill in Khorne's name and look awesome while doing it."

Contrasting sharply to the laid-back attitude of Knives was a blonde named Executioner, who was somber and vengeful, which was a shame, because she was a genuinely pretty girl, minus the St. Andrew's Cross she'd cut into her mouth. During the battle that started her career as a Sister, she witnessed her mother be killed right in front of her by a power fist-wielding Commissar. Enraged and grief-stricken, the young blonde attacked, so quickly he barely saw her chainsword coming, killing the man so brutally that it was more like an execution than a fair fight, which earned her name. Her dying mother left her with the final words of "kill more than I could ever hope to." And just like that, the newly-christened Executioner took the Commissar's power fist (and the severed hand in it as a trophy/token of memory) and swore to fulfill her mother's wish. However, she is full of self-doubt and questions her value as a Daughter of Khorne, which explains the self-inflicted scars, and as such, fights every battle like her last, determined to take as many as she can down with her.

And finally, there was another blonde named Legion. While she did look like a blood-crazed psychopath, as a person, she was hardly that. Shy, soft-spoken, and even timid, what made the girl the murderous fiend she seemed to be in battle came from her own head. See, ever since she was little, Legion began hearing voices, which became the source of her name, and when battle comes, the voices go from quiet whispers into a screaming cacophony, a maelstrom of noise in Legion's mind, roaring their demands for blood. So powerful is the resulting migraine that she goes totally berserk, and the voices merge with her own, Legion's sense of individuality gone as she refers to herself as "we," eviscerating her foes in a red-hazed fury. But as the fight begins to wind down, so do the voices, gradually returning to their murmuring echoes, and Legion regains her sense of self, going back to the wallflower she normally was.

For all the lunacy and casual disregard for human life these ten members of the Sorority displayed, they were still just ten out of two thousand, which included the gaunt, skinny brunette named Bonesaw, who acted as the Sisters' lone doctor, and the biological platinum and strawberry blonde siblings Frostbite and Skadi, respectively. There were other notable Sisters, but none as unique or as skilled as those presented.

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**It's funny how much real life can affect your writing. Why do I say that? Because almost all of these whackjobs borrowed their looks from real girls I know (and trust me, they are nothing like this at all in real life, they are far much nicer/prettier, and no, I'm not giving names), and just something in my weird little brain said, "hey, they could totally look like Khorne cultists" and so this was born.**

**Chapter Three will come when I have an idea for it.**


	3. Chapter Two: The Sorority in Action

**I've been a little busy, and it took me awhile to develop this idea, but here's the Sorority in action, yeah, I know, lazy title, but I couldn't think of anything better.**

**Two things before we begin:**

**1\. If you still haven't found the reference I made in the previous chapter, reread the last paragraph. Pay close attention to the description of Frostbite and Skadi. Asking Disciple of Ember or BIBOTOT (or is it BITOBOT?) is cheating.**

**2\. I'll go ahead and apologize in advance if the fights seem Sue-ish. I'm still working on my ability to describe battle scenes, and this is mostly just a way to show how these girls worship Khorne.**

**Other than that, here's the chapter.**

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_Chapter Two: The Sorority in Action_

Saint Fu was a small, out-of-the-way, peaceful agri-world, located in the Phlegyas Sector's northeast, providing food to its system. In centuries past, it was a corrupt, practically lawless planet, until a Confessor by the name of Fu inspired the working class to rise against their oppressors. The world's government captured him and stitched his mouth shut, but this only served to attract more followers. Eventually, so strong was Fu's influence that the proletariat successfully revolted and overthrew the old government, naming the world after the newly-canonized saint, who was martyred in the revolution. After a few decades, the planet became the way it was now.

But what its inhabitants didn't know is that the Sorority of Violence had found its way onto their little world, overtaking one of its PDF's outlying garrisons with aid from those who transported them there. When the platoon originally stationed there failed to deliver its monthly report, the regimental HQ in the provincial capital sent another to the fort to investigate.

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Seventy-five hidden pairs of yellowy eyes scanned the convoy of about 150 men marching along the dusty road with dangerous intent, huddled in a small patch of woods close to them. The Sisters knew full well of why the soldiers were coming, and had planned to intercept them. About a week after they had set up shop in their new base of operations, the outpost's vox came to life, requesting its log. It didn't take a genius to know what would happen when no answer was given, so with aid from the tactical holo-map within the fort, the Sorority managed to organize the ambush about to happen.

Huntress thought it all over has her thumb absentmindedly brushed over her power sword's activation key, her other hand holding her laspistol. Crouched beside her was a twitching Frenzy, flexing her claws whilst combat drugs surged through her veins. "C'mon, gotta kill. _Must _kill! Need to spill blood!" The practically feral girl chittered, prompting Huntress to turn to her, raising a finger to her shemagh-covered lips before pointing to Knives.

Knives felt honored to be the Sister who was to shoot one of the men right as the Sorority was to start charging in, making sure her bolt pistol was fully loaded. "Get ready, Knives. We move the second you take aim." Massacre whispered next to her. Giving her trusty gun one last look-over, the brunette pulled up her signature leathery brown mask, which covered the lower half of her face. "Khorne's gonna have some new skulls on His Skull Throne, girls!" She excitedly half-whispered, levelling her pistol as her comrades started to run.

A yell of "ambush!" escaped from one of the PDF soldiers' throats when the chest of the guy next to him suddenly exploded in a shower of blood and bits of guts, throwing the whole column into disarray. "WHERE FROM?!" Another hollered as the men frantically looked around for the source, until a third cried, "TO THE RIGHT!" Coming at them was a sight that would be many of theirs' last, a large group of young women, screaming obscenities at both them and the Emperor, a wide variety of weapons, both ranged and melee alike in their arms, taking potshots at them as they continued sprinting.

To say the PDF wasn't prepared was an understatement. St. Fu had never been invaded by enemies of the Imperium and whatever crimes occurred on the planet rarely targeted the Planetary Defense Forces. Still, the inexperienced troops managed to get a few shots off, injuring a few of the oncoming horde.

When the Sorority slammed into the ranks of the platoon, it became a bloodbath. Around 10 men were immediately killed by impacting strikes, and more were soon to join them. Massacre herself killed two with the first swing of her eviscerator, the obscenely large weapon bisecting its victims horizontally. Those surrounding them wisely backed off, but it didn't matter for she began shooting her storm bolter, killing or otherwise fatally wounding another three in the closeness of the fight. "C'MON DOGS, I EXPECTED BETTER! IS THIS THE BEST YOU CAN DO?!" Massacre thundered, striding forward amongst the madness, fighting any who tried to stop her.

"I'M GONNA BLEED YOU BASTARDS WHITE!" Carnage roared in a mix of fury and bliss, for in the thick of combat was where she truly felt joy, having just earned her second kill to the whining teeth of her chainaxe. Sensing something to her left, the High Priestess turned to see a man coming at her with a combat knife, his arm out wide. Carnage grinned. _Idiot_, she thought, grabbing the outstretched arm, taking him by surprise, holding him there for a brief second, seeing into his fear-flooded eyes through her own working left. She then slammed her axe into his stomach, making him scream in pain. With a devious snicker, Carnage sped up her axe's blade, shredding through his armor, flesh, and insides. After about ten seconds, she let go of the now limp arm and removed the weapon, dropping the man, looking for a new victim.

Meanwhile, Cutthroat fought rather slowly, mostly to make the PDF more terrified than they already were as she cleaved one with her power axe. Unlike Massacre or Carnage, Cutthroat was mostly quiet, keeping her yelling to a minimum, to further push the men's morale to their limits. After her second kill, Cutthroat began shooting with her laspistol, mentally cursing herself when the few shots she fired failed to make a lethal hit. As she comprehended that thought, a soldier let out a war cry from behind, intending to get her with his bayonet. The blonde High Priestess _just barely_ managed to spin around quick enough to pistol-whip him in the head, stunning her would-be attacker. Clutching him by the collar, Cutthroat looked him dead in the eye and murmured, "You…will not…do that…again," before shooting him point-blank between the eyes.

Frenzy carved and cut her way through the battlefield, often finishing forgotten foes left by other Sisters. With a loud snort, another rush pulsed throughout her body, her vision briefly becoming completely red. "Kill…more…!" Frenzy snarled, bounding towards an unaware victim, slashing at his legs until he fell over, clambering on top of him to claw at his face. "Die…rat…die!" The junkie shrieked into his face, which was slowly becoming less and less recognizable as Frenzy tore it apart. Once satisfied, Frenzy got up and turned around to a soldier who yelled, "YOU FUCKING ANIMAL! I'LL KILL YOU!" as he ran at her with both a laspistol and a combat knife, shooting wildly at her, but Frenzy was too quick, thanks to another hit of combat drugs, shoving her bladed fingers into his gut, then swinging her free hand back and forth across his face and neck, bleeding him out fast. Once she was sure he was dead, Frenzy scampered off into the rest of the fray.

"TEN POINTS!" Lacerator cried as she slew her third kill of the fight, taking in the sight of her butchered victim with relish. The psychotic brunette was quite literally putting the "laughter" in "slaughter," guffawing when her axe bit into another unlucky soldier, getting him in the side. Pulling out her laspistol, she put it under his chin and pulled the trigger, burning a hole through his head. A yell behind her prompted her to rapidly make a low swing as she turned, chopping off the legs of her assailant. The second he crashed to the ground, Lacerator finished him off with another pistol shot. "DON'T BE SCARED BOYS, I GOT AN AXE THAT WON'T QUIT!" She hollered, cackling at her own bad joke.

Bloodmaw's mouth spewed insults and profanities like a drunken Rogue Trader as it normally did during fights with incompetent fighters. In fact, it spewed insults and profanities like a drunken Rogue Trader in _every fight_. "EAT BOLT PISTOL, DIPSHIT." She bellowed as she landed another shot into a soldier, getting him in the head, evaporating it into brains and blood. _Kill number three_. She thought, which served to further piss her off. Two, including the one she had just made, had been from bolt shells, and only one was from her blade. _Sweet blood and merciful thunder, I'm losing my touch. Fuck. _Bloodmaw cursed herself, when an opportunity presented itself in the form of one of the platoon's sergeants holding a chainsword, who was eyeing her cautiously to figure out a plan of attack. Smirking, Bloodmaw mockingly beckoned him, "C'mon, boy, I'll be gentle." She pushed, faking a seductive tone. "I'll rip those smart lips right off your mouth, bitch." The officer growled, coming towards her. The brunette managed to block his incoming blow, then cruelly kicked him in the groin nearly a split-second after, slamming her yowling chainsword into his right shoulder once he fell to his knees. _That's better_.

Compared to most battles, Huntress was fighting on the defensive in this one, not because she was nervous, but to test the competency of the St. Fu PDF in melee combat. She'd only made a single kill so far, for her silence did not attract attention from the distracted troops, who were caught up fighting her Sisters. That changed, however, when one of the men, part of the platoon's command squad, came forward with a power sword like hers. _A duel, then_. Huntress thought, pointing her blade at him. Thus their weapons crossed in earnest. The soldier's strikes were slow and heavy, easily blocked by the black-clad Sister, yet when she attempted to counterattack he managed to stop those. _Not bad, for an amateur_. Huntress couldn't help but find him a decent swordsman, yet found an opening after deflecting a wide swing, stabbing the trooper, her sword slickened with his blood. Pulling it out, she decapitated him to make sure he'd be dead. _These guys might actually be pretty good_.

Knives hadn't killed anyone yet, but found herself in the middle of a brawl with three of the PDF men. She had gotten a few stabs and slashes here and there, but none of them lethal. Luckily for her, when one of the fighters attempted to thrust a bayonet at her, Knives made a wide circular motion with her blades to knock the rifle upwards, then stabbed both knives into his chest. Keeping Blood and Gore there, she grabbed his head and kneed him in the face, pulling out one of her boot knives to get the back of his neck. Unable to recover the weapons due to the other two men present, the brunette simply drew her pistol and shot both. "Damn I'm good!" Knives congratulated herself, then holstered the gun and quickly retrieved the three blades she'd left behind before seeking more unique ways to kill.

"I'm not gonna fail you, Mom." Executioner whispered to herself as she stepped into the chaos, almost immediately getting a kill when she slugged an oncoming soldier with her power fist. Her confidence boosted by this, Executioner raised a yell, sprinting forward again until making her second kill with an impacting punch on a trooper who didn't even see her coming. Standing over the corpse, the young blonde simply stood there, catching her breath. Taking in the sight of combat around her, she thought, _I might not get that many this time_, due to the many bodies already strewn about the battlefield. Her mind stalled when her instincts kicked in to quickly turn around and make her third kill when a masculine roar resounded right behind her. _Never mind_.

Several minutes before the fight began, Legion felt a dull throb in her head as the voices seemed to grow louder. _MAIM! KILL! BURN! SLAUGHTER! SHRED! HACK AND HEW! RIP AND TEAR! _They nearly chanted, and she could be seen clutching her temples as the pain escalated, becoming so agonized by the increasing crescendo she barely heard Knives' pistol fire, instead running into battle as told by the voices. Brutally decapitating the first enemy she saw, Legion began wildly swinging her chainsword, with no sense of self-preservation, not even shooting her laspistol as she left multiple vicious injuries and severed limbs in her wake, not even making sure they were dead. "WE…ARE…LEGION…!" She screamed in unison with the voices, right before landing a lethal blow on an attacking soldier.

After about three hours of insane combat, the Sorority stood victorious, completely obliterating the PDF platoon, soaking the road and the area immediately surrounding it in their blood. The Sisters had a brief period of raucous celebration for their success, then set about collecting anything useful or adding new trophies. "Any casualties, Bonesaw?" Massacre asked the resident medic of the cult. "Uhh…well, Agonizer's gonna need a new arm," the brunette began as she cleaned her namesake medical tool, which she also used as a weapon. "You got a tourniquet on that, right?" The Mistress asked. "Course I did, but um…Sekhmet broke her jaw, a few others got some lasgun wounds, a ton got some new scars, but they don't seem crippling, and the only one who actually got killed was Thrasher." "Good, but it's a shame about Thrasher. She was only like, what, 17? 18?" Massacre noted somberly, to which Bonesaw replied, "yeah, round there." "Guess that's just life for bad girls like us, eh? Live fast and die young." With a grin beneath the one stitched into her surgeon's mask, the brunette said, "at least we do it well." The blonde Mistress returned the expression, "That we do. Keep up the good work, Bonesaw."

Carnage sat on one of the bodies, her chainaxe embedded in his back, holding up her right arm as her brass dagger cut in her new kills, making small horizontal lines into her flesh, wincing slightly as she did so. "413…414…415." Double-checking to be sure, Carnage smiled, pleased with her progress. She'd already made 415 kills since her promotion to High Priestess 4 months ago, not long after her 21st birthday. _Khorne really is watching me_.

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**So what'd y'all think?**

**I got two more things to address, post-chapter:**

**1\. Yes, that pun is bad, and Bloodmaw is using modern profanity. Can't I just have a little fun in dialogue?**

**2\. The reference here is a song my older sister played in her car once, it got stuck in my head, and it grew on me. (Hint: read the second to last paragraph.)**

**Ooooh, it ends with a teaser to a plot thread! And there will be another, after the next chapter.**

**That about wraps it up, folks, next chapter's gonna show how these girls are on days when they're not fighting, so be on the lookout!**


	4. Chapter Three: The Sorority at Leisure

**Hey gang, sorry I haven't posted in awhile. Life happened, and I couldn't come up with something right away. I said this chapter would be on a day when they're not fighting, but this is just when the main 10 aren't fighting in general, taking place immediately after the previous. I also said I'd start one of the major plot threads after this chapter, but I may hold that off. **

**On a less serious note, I consider the song I referenced last chapter to be the Sorority's theme song. **

**Lastly, if you were confused by the wording, Carnage currently has 415 kills altogether. She did not make that many in 4 months.**

**But enough talk. Here's the Sorority at leisure.**

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_Chapter Three: The Sorority at Leisure_

Massacre surveyed the scene about her, drinking in the sight of the Sorority's handiwork. 150 corpses were scattered about the road and its surrounding grass, the ground thoroughly soaked in blood. Bonesaw left with the wounded not long after their conversation, and the dirty-blonde Mistress figured she and the remaining Sisters should head back as well. "Ladies!" she announced, making sure everyone was listening. "We're not staying much longer. Get all the shit we need and whatever you wanna take for yourself and let's go." A majority answered with some variant of "okay," whilst a fair amount groaned at the order. Looking over, Massacre noticed that Carnage, a few yards away, was turned away from her, and appeared to be counting her scars again, sitting on a corpse with her axe in its back. _Typical._ She thought, rolling her eyes, walking over to the High Priestess.

Carnage sensed her superior behind her, inwardly growling. "Didn't ya hear me, Carnage? We gotta go." Massacre stated firmly, only making the black-maned girl respond with, without even turning, "415, Mistress. Four-hundred and fifteen kills." she heard a scoff behind her. "Blood and thunder, Carnage, really? Are you really bringing this up again?" Getting up and facing the Mistress, Carnage shot back with, "I'm catching up, Mistress. I _will_ make 800 kills and become the new Mistress and you know it. Khorne has His eye on me." Massacre sarcastically laughed, saying, "If He does, as you say so, wouldn't you already have made it to Mistress by now? Actions speak louder than words, y'know." The raven-haired girl's eyes, even her dull blind one, became livid with anger. "What you did in 8 years I did in five. Obviously one of us is being watched. And it ain't you. 'Actions speak louder than words?' What are you, my mother?"

Massacre's temper was at its boiling point. "I sure will discipline you like her, you milky-eyed _brat_." Carnage howled in rage, which started yet another wrestling match between the two as they rolled around in the dirt screaming obscenities at each other. Cutthroat, who saw the fight, did a scoff of her own. _The fights between Mistress and Carnage really get pretty fucking petty after a while._ Making her way over to the scuffle, which was being watched by several other Sisters, the scarred blonde took out her laspistol and fired a shot into the air, close enough to catch the attention of the brawling girls. "By Khorne, this is getting annoying. Don't you remember we need to leave?" Cutthroat barked, which prompted Massacre to shove the still-pissed Carnage off of her. "Cutthroat's right." The Mistress stated, dusting herself off. "We better get moving before retaliation comes." "No reason we can't fight them too." Carnage muttered to herself as she dug her chainaxe out of her improvised seat.

After several minutes, the Sorority began the long march back to the captured outpost they called their temporary home. Frenzy, who was still coming down from the high of her combat drugs, removed the mask around her mouth, revealing the area to be heavily scarred. That was from her habit of scratching it fervently after wearing the mask for long periods of time, and she started the process anew, remembering to remove her gauntlets first. "Frenzy!" she heard a familiar voice, turning to see Lacerator, who speed-walked up to her. "Hey, how many'd you get today?" the psychopathic brunette asked, anxious to her friend's answer. "Lots. Lotslotslots. Good killin'. Spilled lotta blood." The blonde replied, then returned the question. "I got around…five, I think. You shoulda seen it, the way I chopped 'em up. Blood and thunder, it was _hilarious_! The first guy barely even saw it coming!" Lacerator started laughing again, her retelling of the battle becoming less and less coherent. "When I got to number five…hahaha...he tried to surprise me…ahahaha…but I cut his legs off…bahahahaha…and the best part was, I went…Oh Khorne, "I got an axe that won't quit!" AHAHAHAAAA!"

Bloodmaw didn't really talk to anyone on the way back, mostly figuring out what she should and shouldn't have done during the fight in order to be better prepared next time. "Hey Bloodmaw?" she looked over to see Razor, a younger Sister of 18. "What do you want, kid?" the brunette growled, clearly not in the mood for chit-chat. "I just wanted to say that I now have 30 kills. What do you think of that?" _30?_ Bloodmaw thought, _I made thirty __**before**__ I was 18. _Instead, she grinned, the blood-splatter moving with the muscles. "That's great! Should we give you an award? I made that many at 17! Now would you kindly shut your trap before I do it for you?" Bloodmaw responded with fake enthusiasm. Razor, as you may expect, was not amused. "You really are a fucking bitch, Bloodmaw." The older brunette kept smiling, "That's my job, kiddo. Now fuck off."

Knives' face scrunched as whiskey burned down her throat. She'd snagged the flask off of one of the fallen soldiers, and, being thirsty, helped herself to the fiery drink. "Blood and thunder, that's some strong shit." She said to herself, idly twirling one of her blades in her free hand. Going a little faster, she caught up to Huntress, whom she considered one of her friends, and the feeling was mutual, for they were both some of the "chill" Sisters. "Hey Huntress." She greeted, "Thirsty?" Offering the flask. Huntress nodded, taking the container, lowered her shemagh and took a swig, being one who could hold her drink, she didn't react as much as Knives. "Good stuff." The dirty blonde brusquely stated. "So how many'd you get?" the young brunette asked. "Three." Huntress replied. "Hey, me too! I saw you, and I have to say, you were just so calm and precise and all. You really were like some kinda assassin." The older girl smiled at the comparison. One reason she liked Knives was that despite her being a terribly good fighter, she was still a kid at heart. "You and I oughta work together more often, we'd be real good at getting skulls on the Throne. Knives and Huntress, Khorne's most badass killers." The free-spirit continued rambling, painting herself and her friend almost as action heroines. Huntress silently laughed at the thought. "We should."

Executioner and Legion walked quietly, barely even aware of each other's presence. The two young girls were farther back in the group, away from most of the conversations occurring. From underneath her mother's old blood-red kepi, Executioner noticed this, flitting her eyes over to Legion, who seemed to be having mental conversations with the voices in her head. "Hey." The older of the two said abruptly, snapping the younger out of her inner dialogues. "Oh, hey." She replied. "So, uh, how many'd you get?" Executioner asked awkwardly, not used to starting a discussion. "I…I don't really know." Was Legion's answer. "Really? How could you not know?" Executioner arched a brow. "Whenever we're about to fight, The Voices start yelling at me. They keep screaming about wanting blood and skulls, and they get so loud my head hurts. By the time we're actually going in it hurts so much I just go crazy, and I hardly even know what I'm doing." Intrigued, the older blonde inquired, "So is that why you were screaming "we are Legion" at the top of your lungs?" Legion was genuinely shocked by the question. "I did? I barely remember most of the fight, other than it started, and we won. Like I said, I really have no idea what I'm doing when The Voices are really loud." A moment of awkward silence fell upon the pair until Legion asked, "Did you get a whole lot?" "Four." Executioner replied.

* * *

**So that's what these girls are like outside battle. I believe now I can safely ask you all who your favorite is so far. Mention whom in your review.**

**"Blood and thunder" is the Sorority's main exclamation, in case you were wondering. (it really was one back in the old days. I thought it suited them perfectly)**

**And to clarify, when I say Executioner wears a kepi, I'm referring to the US Civil War style ones, that aren't stiff like French ones. Look up some pics of Civil War soldiers to get an idea. I mention this in case anyone wants to draw the Sorority. (And please do. I would, but I suck.) PM me if you do, so I can show and or tell you what their outfits look like.**

**Think that's about it. See ya next time.**


	5. Ch 4: The Inquisition (Let's Begin)

**Hinga Dinga Durgen. It's Leif Eriksson Day. (Oct. 9)**

**I actually wrote this chapter a week or two ago, but delayed posting because it felt rushed. Then I figured I should just post it anyway, because I really want to get further into this story. You'll see why at the end of this chapter.**

**Now begins...the Inquisition!**

* * *

_Chapter Four: The Inquisition (Let's Begin)_

The day after the ambush by the Sorority, the St. Fu PDF regiment that sent the investigatory platoon, led by a Colonel Loch, began growing suspicious. "Gentlemen," Loch began in front of his assembled officers in the regimental HQ's briefing room, "We've lost contact with two platoons in two weeks. The first from their outpost in the western part of the province, the second sent to look for them. Obviously someone has taken over the outpost and doesn't want us knowing who they are. Anyone have a suggestion to find out?" Loch asked everyone. "Send an armored regiment?" a Captain Niumann spoke up. "We don't know, and I don't mean to sound like a juvie, just what sorta heat these people are packing. I like your idea, Niumann, but again, it might be too risky." The Colonel answered. "There may be some sort of clue left at where the investigatory platoon was intercepted. Should we look there?" someone in the back loudly said. "Who said that?" Loch barked back, finding the source of the voice to be the much-younger Captain Burnsley. "Um, I did, Colonel Sir?" he asked, unsure even of himself for speaking out such a plan. "Well, I like your idea. We'll send some scouts out on the road the platoon used."

"Hey Mistress, y'know how we caught those guys who tried to find us yesterday?" Knives asked Massacre, who asked her to continue, "I was thinkin' that the rest of 'em are getting onto us. I mean, the mongrels who used to live here didn't answer their vox-thingy, and now the ones who came to look for 'em are dead too. Know what I'm saying?" the Mistress looked at the younger girl, impressed by her skills in logic. "Hey everyone!" the dirty blonde shouted, "Knives just brought up a real good point. We've been here long enough for these Corpse-Slaves to know where we are. So within the next day or two we're moving out."

It didn't take long for the scout team to find what was left of the platoon the day after they were sent out, coming across the area where their bodies, broken and butchered, lay strewn about. Animals and insects had already made meals out of many of them, rendering the corpses even more mangled. Disgusted and horrified, the small group of men trudged through anyway, determined to find something about who had done this. "Sweet merciful Emperor…" gasped Eldan Khartur, one of the younger guys, upon seeing a rather peculiar one of the dead. It was a girl, or perhaps the remains of one. In a weird way, she looked rather lovely, almost as though she were sleeping, minus the set of decay that was beginning to take its toll on her young features. Her hair had red streaks in it, and branded into her left shoulder was a strange symbol. This was what remained of Thrasher, one of the Sorority. "Hey fellas? You may wanna look at this." Khartur announced to the rest of the team.

"Sir? This is Scout Team Zero-Six-Nineteen with a lead on the enemy. We've found the corpse of a young female with a symbol branded into her left shoulder. Orders?" Colonel Loch's vox-caster crackled, stirring him from his paperwork. "A body, you say?" the older man replied, getting the response of, "Yessir." "Bring it here, so we can have a look at it."

When Scout Team 0619 returned, they laid their cadaverous clue onto an examination table in the medical area of the base. The doctors measured and studied just about every inch of her for two days, and despite figuring out she was between 17-18 years old and lived a very active lifestyle, they still couldn't decipher the rune on the dead girl's shoulder. "It's obviously some sort of membership sign to a gang." said Dr. Kevlich, as he washed his hands. "Very likely, but what about the teeth? Or her hair? Or eyes?" asked another doctor named Lennernach. "Probably membership signs too. We oughta find someone who knows what this mark is, though." Kevlich answered.

Loch's staff agreed to send the information gathered from the body to the planetary capital of St. Fu City, where it was further studied by the medical team of the Commander-in-Chief of the PDF, who concluded that the symbol was likely to be of heretical design. Naturally, this was caught by the Inquisition, which sent an investigator to the planet as fast as they could, even though the shuttle was not seen in St. Fu's skies for another four days.

Inquisitor Graic Backett of the Ordo Hereticus, a lanky fellow with stark blue eyes and a head of shaggy brown hair, stepped off of the shuttle, a lho stick dangling from his bearded lips and his hands in the pockets of his untied longcoat. Graic was unusual for an Inquisitor, to say the least, in that he was pretty easy-going. "Inquisitor." The Planetary Governor and Commander-in-Chief of the PDF greeted with a bow. "Spare me the formalities. Just tell me the information I need to start this investigation." Backett sighed, clearly tired from the long journey to this backwater planet. "Well sir, like we said, the corpse we've been studying has what may be a heretical symbol on her left shoulder." Said the head medical director of the PDF. "Well, okay then. What sorta drinks you people got? I'm thirsty and need a bit before I examine this body of yours." The Inquisitor returned, speaking more to everyone else than just the medical director.

Roughly an hour later, after being given a tall glass of the finest alcohol available on St. Fu, Inquisitor Backett was led to where the body was being kept. _She must've been quite a catch in life._ Graic silently observed the girl's corpse, for another oddity of the man as a member of The Emperor's Holy Orders was that he liked his women as much as he did immolating heretics. "Show me the mark." He ordered simply.

What he didn't expect was just _what _mark the shoulder bore, making his eyes widen from his usual half-lidded gaze. "Inquisitor?" the Governor asked, having seen Backett's reaction. "You all got a real problem here." the Inquisitor bluntly stated, turning back to the St. Fu ruling class. "Why is that, sir? Who is this girl affiliated with?" the general inquired. "She's a servant of the Ruinous Powers." The natives' expressions changed to ones of fear. Backett continued, "Yup, _those _Ruinous Powers. And not just any of them, no, this girl serves one of the worst of them. I won't say its name, but know this: Its followers will stop at nothing until everyone on this planet is drowning in their own blood. I don't know how much you value the lives of your people, sirs, but if you want to keep most of them alive we'll have to act fast. Luckily, these sort of heretics aren't exactly subtle." Graic finished with a slightly uplifting tone at the end of his sentence.

Meanwhile, the Sorority had already been traveling to a new base of operations, nobody aware of just what that place would be. The only one who didn't seemed worried about it was Massacre. In fact, she had a slight spring in her step as they continued walking, her hands behind her back and a little smirk on her face. "Uh, Mistress, just where're we going?" many of the Sisters immediately behind her wondered. "Don't worry, girls. The night before we left, I studied the map of this shithole, and found out just the perfect place where they'd never think to look." Massacre continued, her grin growing wider. "And where would that be?" Cutthroat, who was to the Mistress's left, asked her after swatting a fly away.

"The provincial capital."

* * *

**Ends with a bit of a wham line, doesn't it?**

**And yes, Graic is portrayed by yours truly (except I'm nowhere as bearded as him, I don't smoke, and actually detest the taste of alcohol).**

**UPDATE: November 3rd, 2014: I changed Graic's dialogue so he sounds more like an Inquisitor. Thanks to Disciple of Ember for pointing that out.**

**I'll post a better chapter in the upcoming weeks, and I posted this in a foul mood because some asshat hit my car from behind this morning and ran off. I didn't even get a look at the guy, but on the bright side I'm okay.**

**Guess that's about it. Happy Leif Eriksson Day. Yurgur Hingur Dingur.**


	6. Chapter Five: Slumming It

**I'm baaaaaack! *dramatic thunder* Yep, another chapter of our favorite female Khornates is here! It's kinda short, but still though, a new chapter!**

**Sorry I haven't posted in awhile. Classes have been getting tougher and I've started working detail again, leaving me drained at the end of the day and just wanting to curl up with Dante's Inferno. But at least I've resumed making my own money.**

**Before we get started on this new installment in the Sorority's adventures, I'd like to ask CapitalClassShip and redstarzombie, the two readers who've Followed and Favorited this story, why you haven't given a review. I wanna know, in your own words, what you like about this story, and what you think I should work on.**

**And BIBOTOT, I've fixed the way dialogue is written between characters, so perhaps this'll be more convenient.**

**One last thing, if you listen to music while reading, for this chapter I'd recommend _Life During Wartime_ by Talking Heads.**

* * *

_Chapter Five: Slumming It_

The city of Fusmouth was your average non-Hive Imperial city. Capital of the province Liberation, it was here the planet's patron saint had his mouth stitched shut by the Old Regime, and here were its first beginnings of the Revolution. To further the name, from a bird's-eye view, the city was laid out in a long, jagged line, and like a stitched mouth, with a few outlying branches, one of which contained the slums. Dirty and overcrowded, the narrows earned the nickname of "Phlegethon" for its near-lawlessness and amount of blood spilled daily. Murder, arson, theft, you name it, the bad part of town had it. The Sorority of Violence managed to arrive at this part of the metropolis late one night, when few locals were around. Taking refuge in an abandoned hotel, the Sisters began scouting around over the next few days and nights, burglarizing food and clothes (to better blend in), keeping lookout for potential pursuers to their previous slaughter, and stealthily killing anyone who made the dumb decision to try and get inside their building, minus curious children, who they simply scared away.

Other than that, the Sorority stayed holed up in their new little stronghold, and the few who ever actually did any of the aforementioned theft and scouting were the least scarred, thereby allowing easier disguises. One of them was Knives, who absolutely loved urban life, often simply exploring the expansive metropolis, scavenging or purloining anything she found interesting, making sure to keep a low profile during her wanderings, always wearing a hooded jacket she'd snatched from a department store.

That changed one evening, however, when the brunette found herself in one of the city's recreational hotspots, not far from Fusmouth's university. Predictably, a lot of students were around. "Hey you! In the hood!" a voice yelled at Knives. Stopping in her tracks, Knives sighed. _So much for anonymity,_ she thought, turning to face a guy not much older than her, with dyed electric blue hair, which looked that way even in her cheap shades she was wearing to hide her wolfish eyes.

"Oh, never seen you before. You new here?" the punkish fellow asked, to which the disguised brunette answered, being careful to not show her sharpened teeth, "Uh, yeah. Just moved in." The Sorority had no moral regards towards lying, but that half-truth Knives told him made her cringe inwardly. _You could've done better than that._  
"So which classes do you take?"  
"I uh, I'm not in any."  
"Yeah, I kinda figured that when I got a good look at you."  
"How so?" Knives arched a brow. "Eh, I know gutter kittens when I see 'em." The boy explained, a "gutter kitten" being regional slang for a desperate, slutty girl. "Excuse me?_"_ Knives growled. Even though she didn't fully understand the term, she knew it was something offensive. "You heard me, slut." The student's voice suddenly got frighteningly low, spooking Knives a little before she drew a hidden knife, sharply replying with, "fuck right off, pal." This only made him grin, "Ooh, a feisty one. This'll be good," as he roughly grabbed her chin. In that brief period of time, Knives saw the sleeve on his extended arm rise slightly, and noticed some sort of tattoo on the shoulder. Eyes widening, she was still fairly worried about what this freak would do to her, but seeing as to what this bit of ink was, it was like striking oil for her. _I've got to tell the others! _Remembering to break free, the brunette rammed her blade into the arm holding her chin.

Screaming in pain, the man withdrew his arm, Knives swearing there was a tone of excitement in his voice before bolting back to the hotel, shoving her way past confused students and other locals, one of whom was a tall, trenchcoat wearing man who shouted, "what the fuck, man?" as she continued sprinting. _This is great! Servants of the weakling Prince are here! The rest of the Sorority's gonna flip! _Knives excitedly thought, practically breathless as she burst through the old hotel's doors, yelling, "They're here!"

"Who is?!" the Sisters lounging about close to the door snarled at their comrade's spontaneous entrance. "Cultists of our Arch-Enemy!" Of course, the Sisters questioned her claim, but Knives silenced their doubts with, "I know they're here! This guy with blue hair had their Mark on his shoulder!"

All of the noise attracted the attention of Massacre, who strode down from the room she claimed as hers into the lobby, demanding, "What's going on, ya half-wits?!"  
"The Knife-Lover here says followers of the Lord of Excess are within the city." Bloodmaw growled.  
"Followers, eh Knives?" Massacre smirked, walking towards the younger brunette.  
"Yeah, Mistress. A blue-haired guy had Its Mark on him."  
"Really? Are you sure? You know for a fact it was their Mark?"

"I know their Mark when I see it, Mistress, and this guy had it."  
"And what did this 'guy' look like?"  
"He had blue hair, and tonight I stabbed him in the arm."

"Why in the arm?"  
"Long story."  
"Blue hair and a broken arm… Alright, tomorrow I'm gonna take Carnage and we're gonna find and tail him, figure out where the Slaaneshi vermin live. Thanks for the info, Knives."  
"Any time, Mistress."

Inquisitor Backett had arrived in Fusmouth two days ago, and so far he hadn't picked up any new leads. The cult that dead girl belonged to, despite being devoted to Khorne, managed to cover their tracks pretty well. The trail was getting cold, and he was beginning to lose his patience. Normally cultists of Khorne would've attacked another installation by now, but the fact that this group did not served only to irritate him. Having personally encountered servants of the Blood God, he often managed to find them, or at least receive the latest word (as in, the last attack occurred less than a week before) on their whereabouts not long after arriving. The next day he'd be heading to the fort where the original occupants were, but he doubted they'd still be there. _Calm down, Graic, it's only followers of the Arch-Enemy who'll leave the citizenry of this little planet a massive bloodstain if we don't find them_, Graic thought with sarcastic self-deprecation, before taking a drag off of his lho stick. _Not like it matters. They'd just be a drop in the ocean, anyway. But I'm an Inquisitor, dammit. It's my job to keep The Emperor's Domain standing against any and all threats, no matter how many of its inhabitants die._

Even though he'd spent many a year in cities, he still found Fusmouth fairly impressive, its layout a welcomed sight to see compared to a Hive City. Standing outside the Regimental HQ in the center of town, Backett figured he might as well poke around and clear his head before heading to the fort tomorrow, taking one last drag of the stick. Flicking it, he stamped the cigarette-like tube out and started off towards the bright lights of what appeared to be one of the entertainment districts. _They're probably long gone by now, off somewhere we'll never think to look…Alright, stop thinking like that, this cult can't be that smart. There's no way in the Warp they've found some place even these people can't fi- _His train of thought of stalled when a skinny figure in a hood rushed by him, shoving the Inquisitor out of their way. "What the fuck, man?" Graic snapped at the person who continued running, not responding. "Eh, probably just some pickpocket who can't steal_._" Backett rationalized, then looked over himself to make sure nothing of his was stolen. _Good, the little rat didn't take anything. Now to find me a little pick-me-up…_

* * *

**More plot thread teasers!  
**

**But seriously though, I must confess that Knives is personally my favorite Sister, because she's basically a more badass version of me in terms of personality, so that's why I had her run afoul of the Slaaneshi cultist. **

**Don't worry, each of the Sorority, most of those named anyway, will have their own day in the limelight at least twice, once in the present storyline and another as a flashback detailing just how they all became the way they are.**

**Massacre and Carnage are going to have the next chapter to themselves, and it'll have a little fanservice. I won't say what, but I think you'll enjoy it. I'll get started on that in the next few days.**

**And with that, I hope you all had a good Halloween. G'night.**

**UPDATE: November 3rd, 2014: Fixed a few little inconsistencies within the text. Thanks again to Disciple of Ember for helping me write in a more proletarian manner.**


	7. Chapter Six: To Catch a Rat

**So here's the sixth chapter, with the fanservice I promised last chapter. Kept getting stuck for how to progress and had some schoolwork to do. Don't have much to say here.**

* * *

_Chapter Six: To Catch a Rat_

Mornings in Fusmouth were often rather bleak and cloudy, something Massacre, whose position as Mistress of the Sisterhood required a level of observance, noticed as she and Carnage trudged through the streets of Phlegethon, looking for the Slaaneshi scum Knives encountered the previous night. Both women were in hoods, Carnage's significantly deeper, obscuring the upper half of her face in shadow. Massacre hid her eyes with a pair of shades. Neither spoke to one another since they had both awoken earlier that day, each more concerned with finding the den this filth crawled into at night to do whatever his weakling god called "worship."

"I honestly have no idea why you decided to drag me along, Mistress." Carnage suddenly said, making Massacre flinch ever-so-slightly at the break in silence, for the pair had not encountered any people as they stalked down the twisting streets, it was too early for most of these folks to be out and about. "Just figured you'd want some fresh air, Carnage." Massacre replied to the black-maned 21-year-old, who spat back, "Don't think I don't know you're planning to rob me of it forever when my back's turned, Mistress." _How dare this little bitch think I'd violate Bloodmane's Law just because she is one, _Massacre exasperatedly thought, outraged at Carnage even _thinking_ that the Mistress would kill her out of spite. Bloodmane's Law, after all, stated thusly, "To deprive a Sister of this Sorority of her life by one of her own is to deprive Khorne of one of His faithful."

"I CANNOT believe you just said that." Massacre snarled,  
"Well, I fucking did, because we both know it's true."  
"You know I'd never put Bloodmane's Law underneath me! As much as I _would_ like to kill you, I won't, because I actually have a _sense of honor!"_

The two were about to start coming to blows yet again when Carnage saw a man behind the dirty blonde Mistress about 30 yards away. He had electric blue hair, and in one of his arms he cradled his other, which appeared to have a tourniquet tied around it. Pausing, the High Priestess studied him, confirming her suspicions this was indeed their target. "What're you looking at, Carnage?!" a still hot-blooded Massacre barked, to which said girl murmured, "Him."

Turning around, Massacre saw whom her inferior pointed out, the same blue-haired fellow Knives stabbed in the arm the night before. It didn't seem as though he had seen the two almost-fighting women, instead walking away from them down an alleyway perpendicular to the street they were going along. Wordlessly, Massacre and Carnage immediately began following him, making sure to keep the distance they currently had to avoid him feeling their presence.

The Sisters followed the guy for about a half hour, never letting him out of their sight as he tread through various streets, avenues, and alleys, until he came up to an old, warehouse type building, entering through a rusted door. "I'm being followed," The blue-haired boy muttered to the occupants within. Unbeknownst to Massacre and Carnage, he was one of the cult's lookouts, wandering around the area every morning to report anything interesting or useful to his leaders. He was quite lucky in that he had found Massacre and Carnage not far from where he was, walking away at just the right moment before the raven-haired Sister spotted him.

"By who?" one of the Slaaneshi cultists asked in response,  
"They look like friends of the little strumpet that broke my arm last night. It won't be long before they come in, and I noticed these two don't seem to like each other. We should use that against them."  
"Ooh, I know _just_ the distraction." A silky, feminine voice said, seemingly from nowhere.

Massacre and Carnage stopped in front of the warehouse's door, the latter about to open it when the Mistress stopped her, "Don't just barge in, numbskull! At least get your stuff out." In one of the few times Carnage acknowledged Massacre's advice, with a thought of, _Oh, right. Can't believe I was that stupid, _she drew her bolt pistol and brass dagger underneath her jacket, for her chainaxe would, rather obviously, be too difficult to conceal. Likewise, Massacre readied her storm bolter hidden in her greatcoat, unsheathing her knife on the back of her belt.

With a kick into the door, the two women slowly walked into the room, guns and blades brandished to kill. Nobody was there to "greet" them, instead the whole room was dark and seemingly empty. A single aisle, the one directly in front of Massacre and Carnage, was illuminated by a long line of cheap fluorescent lights. Both knew the Slaaneshi freaks in here would likely ambush them, so, acting smart, Massacre walked forward, Carnage backwards, to deter an attack from behind.

"Ready?" one of the cultists of the Dark Prince whispered to a succubus of a woman, who licked her lips before purring a "yes," as she reached her mind out into one of the intruders' own.

Carnage carefully scanned the little walkway of light she and Massacre were on as they crept forward, glancing to her sides every ten steps in case these rats tried flanking them. Every part of her was on high alert, relying almost purely on instinct to be ready to fight if any sort of attack came.

She didn't expect just _where_ that attack would come from.

**Hello there, pretty little thing.** A woman's voice said in her consciousness.**  
**_WHAT THE?! WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?! GET OUTTA MY HEAD! _Carnage mentally roared.  
**But I don't want to get out. I want to know you, kitty-cat.  
**_I'M GONNA FIND YOU AND KILL YOU SO HARD THE REST OF YOUR FUCKTARDED MONGREL FRIENDS AREN'T GONNA RECOGNIZE YOUR FUCKING CORPSE!  
_**My! Such an angry young woman! Are you like this all the time?  
**_WHY DO YOU CARE?! YOU'LL BE FUCKING DEAD BEFORE YOU FIND OUT, SLUT-DOG!  
_**Such hateful words! Didn't your mother teach you how to be a lady? Please, calm down. All I want is to ask you a question.  
**_OKAY, FINE. WHAT ABOUT ME DO YOU WANT TO KNOW BEFORE YOU DIE?  
_**Your friend here. What do you think of her?  
**_Massacre? _The High Priestess was surprised by the question, her mental responses becoming less vitriolic, _I…I think she's a bitch.  
_**Really? If you don't like her, why are you here with her?  
**_She asked me.  
_**Did you want to come with her?  
**_Not really. She insisted.  
_**Let me ask you a different question. Do you two fight a lot?  
**_What do you think?  
_**Have you ever thought just why you keep getting into arguments?  
**_Because she's a bitch. I hate her.  
_**Well, I think it's something else.  
**_What could else could make me want to rip her apart?  
_**I think, deep down, you don't want to rip her apart. You just want **_**her. **_**  
**_WHAT?!  
_**Think about it, sweetheart. You keep coming up with things to fight about because neither of you are willing to share how you truly feel about each other.  
**Carnage was stunned, yet still angry over the voice's theory. …_You really think the reason we fight is because she secretly wants me, you fucked up bitch?  
_**You **_**both**_** want each other, that's why you two cover it up with anger and hate. But now you're here, alone, away from prying eyes. Now you can finally show it.**

Before she could rebuke the voice, a long-dormant part of Carnage's mind suddenly came to life, and it came as quick and deadly as a tornado. Filthy, vulgar, lucid images of Massacre overwhelmed her consciousness, so vivid yet temporary she couldn't block them out. It was like watching a slideshow of sex, starring the dirty blonde the High Priestess normally hated. Something within her rumbled, and heat began spreading throughout her body. Lust, a feeling Carnage had never felt in her 21 years, revealed itself to her, full-force, all of it directed at the Mistress.

Massacre kept her guard up, her storm bolter trained ahead, occasionally sweeping her view to the sides. She didn't know when these vermin would attack, but they would, and she'd be ready. _C'mon, cowards! Show yourselves! I thought you liked pain! Why don't you JUST FUCKING COME OUT?!_ She angrily thought, just as she felt someone rapidly and roughly turn her around, almost shooting what was in fact Carnage in surprise. "Carnage! What do you think you're-" Massacre yelled, before Carnage lunged into her, the black-maned girl's good eye hazy with pure, undiluted want, slamming a hungry pair of lips into those of the Mistress, tongue invading her mouth seconds afterward.

Massacre tried to pull away, but Carnage had an iron grip, holding her tight as her oral assault continued. **Relax, Massacre. Take the feeling in and enjoy it, **A woman's voice resounded in her head, and before she knew it, Massacre started kissing _back, _mobilizing her own tongue to meet Carnage's, which then dueled in each other's mouths. Somewhere in the basement of the building, the sorceress grinned giddily at the sight in her mind's eye. For what seemed to be an eternity, the Sisters reveled in this newfound feeling, making out with fiery passion, the outside world melting away around them.

It was when the two finally broke that the world came back in the worst way possible.

"MISTRESS LOOK OUT!" Carnage screamed as a Slaaneshi cultist appeared behind the dirty blonde, a large knife raised in his hand. If Carnage had not seen him, the two would have still been under the spell of lust, but since she had, the illusion of desire was broken. By sheer luck, neither Sister dropped their guns, allowing the High Priestess to shoot the man before he stabbed Massacre. At that moment, several more cultists emerged from the surrounding darkness, and the fight was on.

Massacre's storm bolter claimed two of the oncoming group, when she heard a roar behind her, whipping around to see a young woman, wearing next to nothing, charging bare-handed at the Mistress. With a roar of her own, Massacre pistol-whipped the girl in the head with a loud crack, killing her almost instantly. Just as she was turning around, a cultist managed to tackle the Mistress to the floor. Massacre was no stranger to this sort of thing, and the two struggled for several moments before she managed to get on top, using her brass dagger to stab the man(?) in the neck.

Meanwhile, Carnage was living up to her name, furious at being coerced into kissing her enemy. "YOU FUCKERS ARE GONNA PAY FOR THAT!" She shrieked, grabbing a foe and shooting her pistol into his stomach, spewing chunks of intestine onto the floor. The High Priestess then smashed the gun downwards into the head of another cultist of indeterminate gender, slashing her knife across their throat. A few seconds later, a punch was thrown at her, but Carnage managed to snatch the fist, then the back of the cultist's, this time a girl about her age's, head, slamming her face into a stack of crates forming the aisle the fight was occurring in several times before finishing her off with a point-blank shot, the girl's blood and brains splattering into the wood of the crates._  
_

A second attack never seemed to come, so Massacre and Carnage bolted from the building, knowing the Slaaneshi would not pursue them in broad daylight without being exposed as heretics to any witnesses. Of witnesses, there were few other than some people running late to work, speed-walking or running like the Sisters. Neither group ever stopped to look, so the two got back to their hideout without trouble.

"So, did you find out where the little bastards hide? I can't _wait_ to introduce them to my axe!" Lacerator asked the pair shortly after they had returned and caught their breath. "Yeah, we did." Massacre answered. Bloodmaw, who appeared with a steaming cup of stolen recaf, looked the Mistress and Carnage up and down before snarkily saying, "Looks like you got to have a bit of fun." Glancing down at themselves, the two noticed their disguises had a fair amount of blood on them. "What happened?" Lacerator inquired. Remembering what had occurred in the warehouse earlier, Massacre and Carnage looked unsurely at each other before the raven-haired girl replied with, "You do not wanna know."

* * *

**You're welcome, guys.**

**Then again, this kinda falls flat because I haven't actually shown what the Sisters look like. Before the year is up I'll try and get some pictures floating around. Hopefully someone is willing to draw these crazy girls. PM me if you'd wanna take up the mantle.**

**Till next time, everyone. Oh and if you haven't, go see _Fury. _I saw it today and it was utterly awesome. **


	8. Chapter Seven: Old Evidence, New Leads

**Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! New chapter here for you all to read while you digest all that food, right? It moves a bit quickly, but I think you'll enjoy it.**

****UPDATE: Black Friday, (Nov. 28) 2014: I forgot to mention that in my spare time, I have a bad habit of reading Elsanna (ElsaxAnna from _Frozen_), and read one story called _Creative Writing_ (If you too like Elsanna, go read it, and say Sgt. Curbstomp sent ya). The author, Amnestyyy, was saying they'd take ideas and requests for the story (it makes sense in the context of the story), and I asked if they'd reference this story in their own, because Frostbite and Skadi (briefly mentioned in Ch.1: Dramatis Personae), actually are Elsa and Anna respectively, and yes, I will give them their own chapter.****

****Ok, that's enough chatter.****

* * *

_Chapter Seven: Old Evidence, New Leads_

That same day Massacre and Carnage found a warehouse containing Slaaneshi cultists in Fusmouth, Inquisitor Backett had left for the fortress the Sorority had sacked several weeks earlier, using a Valkyrie, courtesy of the Commander-in-Chief of St. Fu's PDF, to turn a trip that two days by land into a few hours' flight. Accompanying him was Scout Team Zero-Six-Nineteen, whom he had taken as his temporary retinue for this investigation. For a long time, Graic had a real, attached group of bodyguards and aides, but they were slowly diminished over the years, and his only friend amongst them, the Psyker Dante Jaxen, was the last of the team to die, sadly by Backett's own hand when a Plaguebearer attempted to possess him. Ever since then, Graic had instead followed his old mentor, Nicklaus Greyfang, and his retinue.

That was, until several months ago, when Huron Blackheart, the feared Master of the Red Corsairs, emerged from his domain in the Maelstrom a few Sectors over to attack the nearby systems with a great host of fellow Chaos Space Marines and Daemonic allies. When Greyfang was called to aid the Astartes and Astra Militarum regiments holding the heretics back, Graic would never forget what he and the elder Inquisitor exchanged in their final conversation as Nicklaus boarded the ship transporting him to the warzone.

* * *

"_You're staying here, boy." Nicklaus said gruffly as he lightly pushed Graic back.  
"Aren't I part of your retinue, Master?" Even though Backett had been performing investigations on his own for twelve years, he still showed respect towards his mentor.  
"Graic," that was the first time Greyfang ever called him by his first name, "I've been your Master since you were a young lad, scared and alone, in the ruins of your Schola during the Cleansing of Eurydice. We've found and executed many heretics together, and I've taught you all I know. Now I'm old and weary, and you're still full of vim and vigor. You deserve to live a bit longer as an Inquisitor than I do."  
"If you're gonna die fighting, Master, I'm going down with you!"  
Nicklaus smiled sadly, "Still have that fightin' spirit, too. You've got a full life ahead of you as a member of the Emperor's Holy Orders, and don't cut it short just because I'll be gone."  
"But-"  
"But nothin'! Look boy, one dead Inquisitor doesn't change shit in the whole Galaxy," Greyfang barked angrily, then softened again, "and it'd be better that it was an old dog like me than a pup like you. I'm actually asking you to stay behind and let me and the rest of the crew deal with this. Can you do that for me, son?"  
Backett felt a single tear on his face, swallowing before answering, "Yes, Master."  
"Good lad. Guess I'll be off." The old Inquisitor then walked up the boarding ramp, looking back at his long-time Acolyte with a small grin and gave him the Sign of the Aquila, to which Graic returned the gesture._

* * *

"Inquisitor?" Backett snapped back to reality as he looked over to Scout Team Zero-Six-Nineteen, of whom the sergeant of the group, Claid Boniface, asked for his attention. "What?" the Witch Hunter replied.  
"What are these heretics like?"  
"You mean the ones we're specifically dealing with?"  
"Um, yeah, I guess."  
"By law I can't tell you much, otherwise all of you'd be executed, or worse, for knowing, and I'd probably be executed for telling you in the first place. I guess what I can say is that this sort of heretic lives only to kill, for the sake of killing, and spilling as much blood as possible doing it. That answer your question?"

The scouts all fidgeted uncomfortably in their seats, double-checking their lasguns while they were at it. Backett smirked at their reaction, saying, "Don't worry, boys. We got the firepower of this baby too," with a few knocks on the Valkyrie's interior. After a scant moment of silence, Graic then turned the conversation to the soldiers. "So, since you all'll be my little band of misfits for a while, I might as well get to know your names." Zero-Six-Nineteen looked at each other, before the sergeant spoke up first with, "Claid, Claid Boniface," followed up with "Laius Malcaster," "Jarek Tormen," "Paal Yarden," and "Eldan Khartur." Reclining back into his seat, the Inquisitor put his hands together and said, "Ok, now that we've introduced ourselves we'd better prepare to land. It's about time to, according to what the pilot said."

Sure enough, the aircraft did land in front of the stronghold's gates, the scouts exiting and getting into an attack formation. Backett drew a bolt pistol which he had named "Eurydice's Revenge," wordlessly directing Tormen and Malcaster to stand close beside the gates on each side, before drawing his power sword. With another few gestures, he instructed the pilot to fire the Valkyrie's lascannon at the gates, blowing them open. Smoke curled from the broken entrance, but nothing else came out. After a few moments, the Inquisitor silently ordered the two scouts close to the gates to go inside, whispering to the three with him, "Advance. Slowly."

The six men scoured every nook and cranny of the fort for several hours, overturning every possible hiding place and finding nothing alive, but many resources stolen. "All the rations are gone, sir." Yarden said as they regrouped. "So is just about everything in the medical station. All the dressings, bandages, and tools. A few of the augmetics are gone, too." Khartur added. Graic muttered a curse under his breath before holstering his weapons. "Well boys, at least we know they didn't stick around long and really needed the stuff here. Looks like we're back to square one. Normally these sort of followers of the Ruinous Powers would've made another slaughter by now, but they haven't. Not only is this odd, it's also pretty frustrating." The scout team just sort of stood there, not sure how to respond. "You all haven't seen any more of the symbol that dead kid had branded on her arm, have you? Or a drawing of an eight-pointed star?" Backett piped up during the interlude, getting no's in response. _Subtle Khornates. Just what I _fucking_ needed._ Graic angrily thought, then sighed, "Guess we go back to the ship, gents."

Trudging back to the waiting Valkyrie, the Inquisitor noticed the pilot appeared to be speaking into the vehicle's vox system. As he got in, the pilot stopped him. "Just got word from the HQ, sir. Bodies have been found in one of the city's warehouses. The colonel wants you to see them. Says they might be linked to the dead girl we found a couple weeks ago." Backett wasn't sure whether he should've been full of joy or dread.  
"How fast can we make it back to Fusmouth?"  
"At top speed, two hours, sir."  
"Don't just sit there, let's get going!"

It was early evening when Graic and Zero-Six-Nineteen returned to Fusmouth, the Valkyrie landing within the Regimental HQ. Almost scrambling to get out, the six were led to the warehouse Massacre and Carnage had escaped that morning, the bodies left where they had been. "What happened?" Backett asked, not even allowing Colonel Loch to greet him.  
"Earlier today a young man with a broken arm said he heard a fight in here, and saw two figures run out."  
"Did he specify what they looked like?"  
"Said they were two women, judging by their body shape, and couldn't see their faces because they had deep hoods on."

By now the Inquisitor was feeling anxious. He could hear his heart pounding as he looked over to the corpses packed into a single aisle of the warehouse. One in particular had caught his attention. That of a young woman, due of her lack of modesty. Women were the last thought on Backett's mind at the moment, only noticing the fact that the girl was practically naked because it would be easier for him to find any sort of heretical symbol on her person. Luckily, he didn't have to look awkward in front of the Colonel or his group to search, finding one tattooed to her right shoulder. His sense of anxiety skyrocketed upon seeing the mark, flashing back to a battle fought with heretics bearing the same symbol many years before, with his old henchmen.

The group was holding off an ambush as they waited for extraction, Eurydice's Revenge barking death and Dante's roiling psychic powers claiming more, Backett's other teammates firing their hellguns. The cultists weren't stopped by casualties, instead hysterically charging the retinue with mad determination. Right as the ship removing them from the area arrived, a new wave of attackers suddenly appeared, except they were not as concerned with Graic and his men as they were with the cultists, butchering the depraved maniacs with their own murderous rage. The Inquisitor and his men knew from previous encounters that the new enemies were followers of Khorne, and used the unintentional aid as a distraction to escape.

"Inquisitor Backett? What's wrong?" Colonel Loch worriedly asked. Said man seemed lost in both shock and memory, staring at the symbol on the corpse's shoulder. A moment passed until Backett answered, in a low voice underpinned with fear,

"The cult of that dead girl you found awhile back has been here this whole time."

* * *

**I'm quite proud of those flashbacks, and of how it's given Graic a bit more character. Next chapter will feature the Sorority for the most part, but the Inquisitor will feature, too. They won't meet yet, but they will soon.**

**Speaking of the Sorority, as a Christmas gift for you all, I may write a short, non-canon chapter detailing what I think the Sisters would be like if they were real people in our present time. Also, I STILL ask someone if they'd be willing to draw them. If you're interested in one or another, say so in a review!**


	9. Chapter Eight: Plans Made, Lines Drawn

**New chapter! I think I've settled into a regular schedule of updating this story, that of around every 2 weeks or so. I know that's too long for some of you, but this is just something we all do for fun, right?**

**Anyway, the author Lost Guy is having the Sorority (of a previous generation) feature in his new story for a few chapters (it's called _Pluvian Box_, go read it!), and Amnestyyy, the person who's writing the Elsanna story _Sorority_ is mentioned in **(_Creative Writing_)**, is turning the reference into a small subplot. Now all I need is someone who'd be willing to draw my characters before the year is up. **

**Think that's everything. On with the show!**

* * *

_Chapter Eight: Plans Made, Lines Drawn_

After spending several hours coping with the fact that she and a certain High Priestess fervently kissed each other earlier that day, Massacre felt ready to address the Sorority about the cultists of the Lord of Excess. Sitting up from the old hotel bed in the room she claimed as hers, the Mistress swung her legs over the side and got up, heading out to get everyone assembled.

Walking down the long hallway, Massacre glanced over at the room Carnage was staying in. _Should we talk? _She mentally asked herself, stopping in her tracks. _I mean, she was the one who started…whatever that was. Least she could do is apologize._ The dirty blonde was considering the option when Cutthroat appeared in the corner of her eye, who said, "Heard you and Carnage found where the Arch-Enemy scum hide. You getting us together for a plan?"  
"I am, Cutthroat."  
"Why're you just standing in front of her door? Aren't you gonna have her come down?"  
Massacre sighed, then pulled the scarred blonde closer, quietly replying, "Look, Cutthroat, you and I have known each other since we were kids, so can I assume you won't let this get out?" Cutthroat arched a brow, yet answered, "Sure."  
"Something happened between her and I happened this morning when we found their hideout."  
"Go on."  
"We were searching the place back to back, expecting an ambush, when Carnage all a sudden whips me around and starts _kissing _me."  
Cutthroat's eyebrows shot up at that, "She kissed you?"  
"Yeah, and she even used her tongue."  
"Did you try and get her to stop?"  
"She wouldn't let me go! It was like she glued herself onto me. And that's not even the worst part."  
"Why, what happened next?"  
"I…I…sweet blood and merciful thunder…I started kissing _back_."  
"You kissed back? Why the fuck did you start doing that?" Unbelief riddled Cutthroat's voice, her ruined cheek almost widening from her dropped jaw.  
"I dunno, Cutthroat, something just came over me."  
"How long did you two kiss?"  
"A minute, maybe? It stopped when we actually _were_ ambushed and Carnage noticed one of them."  
"Sounds to me like you and her were somehow tricked into doing that. No Sister's ever randomly kissed me like that."  
"You're right, Cutthroat, that's probably what happened. But it's still weird to think about."  
"Eh, you'll get over it." Cutthroat then grinned, jokingly adding, "I think Carnage hates you a little less now that she knows what your mouth tastes like."

Massacre couldn't help but laugh at that, giving her a little relief from the stress of the situation. "Nice one, Cutthroat. I think she needs to cope with it a little longer, though. She can stay up here while we get a plan together."

Inside Carnage's room, a few silent tears were shed upon hearing Cutthroat's jest.

* * *

With a bit of her confidence restored, the Mistress strode down to the lobby of the old hotel, having Cutthroat and passing Sisters alert the others of the meeting about to commence. "Summon every Sister to the lobby, girls. This is fucking important!" Massacre ordered her underlings, who scattered all across the building to send the message. "Everyone except Carnage! She ain't feeling so hot." The dirty blonde added, getting various questions of why in response. "She just isn't feeling good, you dipshits. Now go tell the others!"

Once the Sorority had been assembled, Massacre stood on the landing of the lobby's stairs, looking across her comrades, all eagerly anticipating the plan for their next move. "Alright everyone, I'm pretty sure you all know Carnage and I found out where the Arch-Enemy filth hide earlier this morning. Now we gotta figure out how we can draw them out and offer their empty skulls to Khorne. Does anyone have a suggestion?"

Nobody spoke for several minutes, for they were all brainstorming ideas. "C'mon, girls. I know you're all smarter than this! These Slaaneshi slut-dogs can't even plan their next breath!" the Mistress barked, growing impatient with the Sisters' silence. Scanning the large room again, she hoped someone would come up with something, until her eyes settled on Legion. The young blonde simply seemed to be sitting there, her expression blank. "Legion!" Massacre yelled at her, startling her out of her daydream. "You got an idea or are you just gonna sit there looking like a brain-damaged statue?"  
"The Voices actually do have a plan."  
The dirty blonde Mistress's eyes widened, "Well, let's hear it!" All attention switched to Legion, who flinched a little at suddenly being in the spotlight. "Umm… The Voices said Knives oughta find the blue-haired guy again, slit his throat and leave his body at the place you and Carnage went to this morning with a note saying something like, 'meet us a few miles outside town,' then we fight them."

The whole Sorority stared at Legion incredulously. Nobody expected someone like her to come up with a plan like that. Granted, it still had a few kinks to iron out, but it was a great one nonetheless. "Blood and thunder, Legion actually has something in her head other than all those voices. Even I'm impressed." Said Bloodmaw, her praise of the plan still covered in snark. Likewise, just about every Sister expressed approval of Legion's idea, until Massacre stated, "Hold on, people. This is a good _framework_ for an idea, but it's missing things. Now we gotta fill in those gaps or else we'll be at their mercy and not the other way around."

Soon enough, a final layout to the scheme was agreed upon. It ran as such: Knives would find the blue-haired guy, come up with a bogus reason and apology for her attack, lead him somewhere hidden and kill him, then leave his corpse (or head) in front of the warehouse Massacre and Carnage found with a note that said 'we know who you are. Meet us three miles northeast of this building,' then ambush and slaughter them. Peering over the crudely written paper that held this strategy, Massacre smiled deviously and announced, "Alright ladies, we got ourselves a plan. It starts tomorrow night."

* * *

Later that evening, after making the discovery of the Sorority's presence within the city, Inquisitor Backett requested the Planetary Governor and Commander in Chief of the PDF to immediately come to Fusmouth. Around three hours later, close to the planet's midnight, the two men arrived after being escorted to the warehouse. "Governor, Commander," Graic began, "I required your presence here because I have just found not only the heretics we were originally searching for, but another cult dedicated to the Ruinous Powers," Backett announced, pointing to the bodies still covering the building's floor, "and they're both somewhere here in this city." The officials blanched at the grim news, asking the Inquisitor what should be done. "How much do you care about the lives of your people?" Graic replied with another question, to which the Commander answered back,  
"We try and take as few casualties as possible, sir."  
"So are you ruling out we purge this part of town, then?"  
"Of course we are, Inquisitor. If we just randomly start killing people, there will be serious unrest and we'll go back to before Saint Fu came to us."  
"I'm not overly concerned with the history of your planet, no offense, but we need to be able to kill two birds with one stone and get rid of both of these cults…" As Backett spoke, an idea was forming in his mind, which made him ask, "Do you expect much out of your citizens to report crimes and capture lawbreakers without the aid of your police force?"  
The Governor, Commander, and Colonel Loch looked at him, unsure what led the Inquisitor to ask them such a question. "We do, yes." The ruler of the world said after a moment, "After all, Saint Fu himself was an ordinary man who…"  
"I get it, your Governorship," the Inquisitor cut him off, "I just need you to contact the medical director and have him bring the dead heretic girl over here as soon as possible."  
"What are you getting at, Inquisitor?" asked the PDF's supreme commander. Graic didn't answer right away, instead going back over to the corpses of the Slaaneshi cultists, hefting up the body of the man who received a point-blank stomach shot from Carnage.

* * *

Huntress quietly walked through the streets of Fusmouth's slums, her shemagh around her throat, eyes hidden by both shades and her black cadet hat pulled low over them, and a jacket covering her wrapped arms. Dressed this way, she simply looked like one of Phlegethon's many vagrants and bums, her demeanor further hiding her true identity. The 23-year old Sister noticed a lot of people were around this morning, more than usual, all of them heading in the same direction. _Some sort of event?_ Huntress thought, curious to see where they were going.

Following the peoples' lead, Huntress saw they were walking towards a large public square, the chatter of men and women alike becoming increasingly louder and more emotional as the destination came closer into view. What everyone was looking at almost made Huntress want to vomit.

Strung up to a lamppost in a crucifixion-like manner was Thrasher, the Sister they had lost in their previous battle. Her eyes and mouth were wide open, and around her neck hung a wooden sign that read:

_I am a heretic and enemy of the Imperium. All young women with blood-soaked hair, yellow eyes, and filed teeth are to be killed on sight with extreme prejudice. A reward of two thousand thrones will be offered for every corpse brought into the Regimental HQ of the St. Fu Planetary Defense Forces._

_The Emperor Protects._

Across from the body of Thrasher, that of a man was also tied to a streetlight, a similar sign around his neck. Huntress didn't bother reading it, already turning around and walking away from the terrifying scene as inconspicuously as possible, almost literally praying to Khorne nobody saw her. Luckily, the people of Fusmouth were too occupied with the corpses on display to look around and see a knavish girl trudging from the square.

Returning to the hideout, Huntress immediately went to Massacre. "Hey Huntress," the Mistress greeted, "you're back early. What happened?"  
"Mistress, we're gonna have to make a change in our plans."

* * *

**See how I tied everything back together?**

**I got the idea of Thrasher's corpse on display from both _Gangs of New York _(the way her body is hung) and _Fury _(the sign). It came to me last night (December 9th), but couldn't write it out because I was studying for the exam I took earlier today. Lucky to remember, right?**

**I'm still debating on whether or not I should write the Christmas gift I said I would in the last chapter, that of a non-canon interlude showing what the main ten Sisters would be like in real life. For one thing, it'd provide a way to build tension for the next real chapter, but on the other hand, it'd be an unusual break from the story. Plus, I have no idea how Cutthroat and Frenzy would translate into real people. I dunno guys, what do you think? Should I do it or not? Review or PM me with your opinion on this.**

**Other than that, Happy Holidays!**


	10. Chapter Nine: Fimbulvetr

**READERS! CEASE YOUR WEEPING! I HAVE RETURNED!**

**Ok, really though, it feels good to be back here on FF, documenting the misdeeds of perhaps the only all-female Khornate cult in existence. And because I've been gone for so long, I'm publishing two, count 'em, TWO new chapters! This one's really short, but the next one makes up for it by being the longest chapter by far.**

**So, are you ready to get back in the action? Read on!**

* * *

_Chapter Nine: Fimbulvetr_

Winter had reared its sleepy head in Fusmouth, its streets dusted with snow and its high points encased in ice. It had come rather quickly this year, not long after bounties had been placed on the Sorority of Violence's and the cult of Slaanesh's heads. City residents walked a little more carefully now, fearing one of these heretics would be amongst them. Both police and banger boys alike openly carried their weapons, and despite this, the two sides had an unspoken agreement to not really fight one another, instead focusing on collecting rewards, eager to find Sisters and Slaaneshi. The PDF had effectively occupied Fusmouth, its soldiers patrolling many districts said to have cultists, and had been trained by Inquisitor Backett to spot, mark, and execute anyone resembling, and acting like, either enemy faction. Several cases of mistaken identity had already happened, costing the lives of a dozen innocents (7 young women and 5 men, to be exact), but after an address from the Planetary Governor himself, it had become a waiting game for the Servants of the Ruinous Powers to make a move.

The Sorority had been moving, but not openly. Instead, they had been withdrawing those who were too young, along with their mothers and the seriously injured, out of the city almost every night, Massacre charging Bonesaw with orchestrating the exodus. Left behind were the childless, initiates, and the mothers of the new breed, tradition being the daughter's first battle was to be fought together. It was planned that because stealth and secrecy were no longer options, the remaining Sisters would fight their way out, hoping the ensuing madness would draw the Arch-Enemy into facing them. The approach offered both the new Sisters experience as an Angel of Khorne, and the older ones an opportunity to do what they did best.

* * *

"They can't hide forever. Knowing this sort of heretic, they must be _itching_ to kill something." Inquisitor Backett said as he stared out over a snowy Fusmouth, blowing lho smoke through his nose.  
"This'd make a great holo-drama." Private Yarden mused as he read a slate. Turning with an arched brow, Graic asked, "What in the Warp are you talking about?"  
"Just think, Inquisitor. A great city, filled with secrets. Secrets that will cost lives when revealed. Renegades and heretics hidden in part of it. Only one man knows who they are, and he'll stop at nothing to put them in their place. It's perfect."  
"Yeah, and at the very end he gets the whole town to rise up against them and there's like a fucking massive battle in the streets. Shitloads of people are killed and the main guy squares off with the leader of the bad guys. Just when it looks like the antagonist is gonna win some sorta intervention comes in and kills him and his dudes. I'd pay top throne to see that." Malcaster joked, earning laughs from the rest of Zero-Six-Nineteen.

Even Backett stifled a chuckle. _They're creative, I'll give 'em that._ He thought, remembering that their skill at arms was more important than pitching stupid holo-dramas. "Very funny, you lot. But this is serious. This ain't fiction. You'd better be ready if it really does come to that." Graic then turned back to the window, knowing open hostilities with the enemy were a "when" and not an "if."

* * *

"Um, Mistress? How do we even know the Arch-Enemy will come out once the Corpse-Slaves start fighting us? We might make it out of here without ever even seeing one of them." Executioner asked, prompting Massacre's response of:  
"They probably won't openly declare themselves to these people. Odds are they'll just blend in with the whole lot of them, get their licks in, and crawl back into the shadows like the rats they are."  
Executioner thought for a moment, then shrugged and replied,  
"That makes sense. Still though, if those freaks love pain, why don't they just be open about their worship of the Lord of Excess?"  
"I dunno. Do I look like one of them to you?"

* * *

Phlegethon's biggest and most influential street gang was the Centaurs, a rough-and-tumble collection of urchins, thieves, thugs, and killers for hire. Word of the bounties for supposed heretics didn't take long to reach them, using their status in Fusmouth's underworld to effectively unite the lesser gangs with promises to split the rewards of every ten payments amongst them all. One such Centaur was known as "Varmint Kagan," a skinny, snaggle-toothed hoodlum with a penchant for tormenting gutter kittens. He was loitering around one of the Centaurs' hangout spots one night, a toothpick in his mouth and his arms folded when one such of the broken girls he loved to break more walked up to him.

"Eyy there sweet thing. Whatcha doin' out here in this time 'a night? Yer mom and pap oughta be worried sick for ya." Kagan grinned a sickly, malicious grin, his crooked teeth making him look even more like the two-bit punk he was.  
"I got a message." Replied the girl, who was in fact a disguised Frostbite, her bloody checker-boarded platinum blonde braid hidden in a hood and her eyes in shades.

Ever since arriving in Fusmouth, the Sorority had kept notice of the city's criminal element, in case it would be willing to face them in battle. The Sisters hadn't bothered to learn anything more complex than membership signs and gang colors, which was how Frostbite found Kagan, by the tarnished burgundy bandana worn on his arm.

"A message, eh? You got some friends you'd be willing to share, darlin'? Maybe a sister er two? Cuz they'd better be as good lookin' as you." Kagan questioned back, Frostbite wanting to literally rip that smug look right off of his face for insulting her and unknowingly insulting her younger biological sister Skadi. Remembering to stay calm, the platinum blonde answered,  
"Uh, no. Just go to the place where the two dead bodies are strung up at tomorrow at dawn. Bring the rest of your boys and all the other gangs."  
"Why?"  
"You'll find out."

* * *

The remaining 750 or so Sisters stood together in the lobby of their hotel hideout, chattering amongst themselves, mostly about their excitement for the upcoming battle.  
"Garmr's Fang and Tyr's Fist will finally taste blood again." Said Frostbite, referring to her dagger and clawed knuckleduster carved from the rare Ymir crystal, native to the Ice World of Arendelle.  
"I'm just glad we're actually being able to shed it. Khorne knows just how much we've missed doing it." Skadi replied, returning the looted liquor the siblings were sharing. Nobody would've guessed their relation, except the checkerboard pattern of blood they both wore in their braids.  
"I'll drink to that." The older took a long swig of the drink before giving it back.  
"Sometimes I just wish we could fight forever and come back to life every time we die. Y'think that's what the afterlife will be like?"  
"Maybe, if we please Khorne enough."  
"Well I hope all the Corpse-Slaves we'll be killing tomorrow will be worthy sacrifices."  
"They'd better be, otherwise we're not the Sorority of Violence."  
"I hear ya, Frosty."

* * *

**Like I said, it's really short, but the next chapter is really long and covers the Battle of Phlegethon. Trust me, you'll like it, plenty of blood and guts and violence. I won't have any notes at the beginning for the sake of dramatic tension.**

**On another note, this was originally supposed to be about Frostbite and Skadi, the Sororitized Elsa and Anna from Frozen. I couldn't come up with much for either of them in terms of personality, mostly because I've started laying off the Elsanna. If you wanna draw these two, drop a message or review my way and I'll give a little more description about their looks.**

**Now before you go off and read about the Battle of Phlegethon, *in faux-distinguished voice* YOU NEED MUSIC! For this, go on YouTube and search for "Signal to Noise Instrumental." Click the one that has Gangs of New York on it. I dunno if it'll work on mobile, so you may have to read the next chapter on a PC/laptop. Also, the song's really long, so depending on your reading speed, try and find another song that starts off really quiet at the beginning, like Prokofiev's "Battle on the Ice." **

**Whatever song you used as accompaniment, I'd like to hear how well it synced up with the chapter as you read it.**

**You're free to go now.**


	11. Chapter Ten: Ragnarok

_Chapter Ten: Ragnarok_

Stillness hung over Fusmouth like a plague. The whole city was silent that chilly, wintry morning. The only sound was the wind. Even Phlegethon produced no noise. The bodies of Thrasher and the Slaaneshi cultist were still in the square, frost accumulating on the cadavers. Standing in a loose semi-circle around them was the Sorority of Violence, weapons drawn and waiting for the enemy. Nobody spoke, nobody made any sudden moves.

Massacre rested her hands on the pommel of her eviscerator, staring straight ahead at the street in front of her, eyes half-lidded yet filled with bloodlust.

Carnage flitted her eyes to and fro every few seconds, a small grunt sending a blast of icy breath from her nose and mouth.

Cutthroat's open jaw had become numb from the cold, but it didn't bother her. Shifting her weight to her other foot, she activated her power axe.

Frenzy had not snorted any of her combat drugs, yet she was already twitching and shivering, slowly flexing her claws for the coming battle.

Lacerator's teeth chattered, making her near-mute giggling seem even more unsettling as she tapped a finger on her laspistol.

Bloodmaw sighed, holding her chainsword like a cane while her other hand was on her hip, licking her lips like a lioness to keep the blood surrounding her mouth from freezing.

Huntress pulled up her shemagh and cracked her knuckles, drawing her power sword from her right side and her laspistol from her left.

Knives twirled Blood and Gore in each hand, stopping when she held them both icepick style, putting her arms at her sides.

Executioner opened and reopened her power fist-enclosed hand, each finger curling in individually as she took a deep breath.

Legion stood with one hand on her head, The Voices beginning to increase in volume, prompting a tiny whimper from the girl as the whispers became murmurs, the murmurs becoming growls.

The 750 or so Sisters had only been there for about fifteen minutes, but it had seemed as though an hour had passed with the relative inactivity of them. As hungry for a fight and thirsty for blood as the Sorority was, they kept their patience, knowing their prey would show up eventually.

And then they heard it. The crunching of snow underneath hundreds of feet. The clinking of many weapons. It surrounded them, starting quietly at first, the sound coming from each street leading to their position. They all seemed to be moving at the same time. Every Sister gripped her weapon just a little more tightly. Made sure her pistol was loaded and ready. Faces ranged from contained giddiness to grim expectance. They all seemed to think the same thought.

_We're in for a fight._

The gangs came into view, all of them with the same silence possessing the Sorority. Their armaments were not as advanced as the Sisters', lacking in both chainswords and power weapons, yet they were still lethal and vicious-looking. Blades, bludgeons, stub guns, and various improvised things, Fusmouth's entire underworld seemed to be coming out to answer the Sorority's call for battle, using whatever they could buy or steal.

From the center avenue, which led north from the square, came the Centaurs, all 400 of them. The White Paw came from the eastern street, the Midtown Maniacs from the west. From the northeast came the Blackened, and the Slit Throats marched down the northwestern street. Behind the main gangs of Fusmouth were the various minor factions such as the Smelters, Grey Ghosts, and the West End Knaves. All in all they were twice the Sisters' number.

Then they all stopped, nearly as one. Fear and hesitation were painted on many of their faces, in contrast to the Sorority, whose expressions were stern as they stayed rooted to their position. Both sides stared at each other in anticipation, waiting for someone to make the first move. The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife as the frosty wind snapped and whistled around the standoff. The silence of the two groups was deafening.

Until Massacre broke it with a single, lowly-spoken sentence.

"If you want us, come and get us."

A single yell sounded from the leader of the Centaurs, which became an earsplitting choir of roars as the criminals of Fusmouth charged at the Sorority. The Sisters stood firm, waiting for the distance to close. Weapons raised, guns cocked, chains growling, and desire for violence rising, only when the individual features of gang members became discernible did the Sorority raise a cry of their own and counter-charge.

Formation and coherency were washed away in a tide of bloody madness as the opponents clashed. The sounds of gunshots, snarling chain-weapons, blades colliding, and the screams of agony and ecstasy were audible for several districts, leaving the inhabitants cowering in fear as to what was happening. The world seemed to be ending, and it was ending in war. Many Fusmouth residents fell to their knees and beseeched the Emperor, desperately praying for forgiveness and His mercy on them. Others simply shook in terror, fearing more violence would erupt and come for them.

Time around Massacre seemed to slow to a stop as her eviscerator claimed a man in a diagonal swipe, the pieces of him crumbling into the increasingly reddening snow. Leaping over the body was another gang member with a knife in hand, who managed to both knock the weapon out of the Mistress' hand and land on top of her. Hitting the ground hard on her back, the banger plunged the knife into her shoulder, making Massacre yowl in pain as the blade withdrew the wound, the guy trying to stab her in the face. Raising her hands and locking onto his wrists to resist, the tip of his knife inched towards her, both Massacre and the thug wearing faces of furious determination. For a moment, the Mistress sensed a decrease in his strength, using that brief window of opportunity to shove the pommel of the knife into the man's nose, breaking it. As he howled and clutched at his face, Massacre rolled themselves over and wailed on him, her fists turning him into a bloody mess until she remembered her storm bolter and used it to finish him off. Rising, the Mistress recovered her eviscerator and Mark of Khorne-bearing Commissar's hat, letting out a roar as she strode forward, adrenaline shrugging off her injured shoulder.

So great was Carnage's bloodlust that she had inflicted the gangs' first casualty when the two met in melee combat, splitting the poor fellow vertically to the middle with her chainaxe. Kicking what remained of him away, a second gang member was immediately dealt with when he tried to attack from the right, the High Priestess slashing him across the torso, deep enough to be fatal. In a single fluid motion Carnage drew her bolt pistol and shot at two more men, killing one of them, while the other shot missed. As the second banger closed in, the black-maned Sister suddenly dropped her weapons and reached for her neck as she felt a chain wrap around it, a third strangling her from behind. The vagabond in front of her grinned evilly as he got in her face, his foul breath burning her nostrils as he said, "Let's kiss that pretty face goodnight." He then cruelly gave her a hard right hook, followed by a left, then a punch to her stomach, making a bit of blood fly from her mouth. But Carnage wasn't going down that easily, channeling the pain from the blows into her already-boiling rage. Straightening back up just as the punk was about to finish her off with a knife, the High Priestess kicked him with both legs, sending him sprawling back. Taking advantage of the other gang member's confusion as her feet reconnected to the ground, she then reached back and grabbed his head, twisting her body to fall over and land on her side, taking him down with her and breaking his chokehold. Grabbing her pistol, Carnage then shot both men during their brief dazes.

Cutthroat didn't sprint into the fray like her Sisters, instead she walked into it, power axe gleaming as energy crackled around it. Only when she killed her first of the day did Cutthroat finally raise a scream, bisecting the victim horizontally. Hunched over from the power she put into the attack left her vulnerable when a ganger tackled her from behind, Cutthroat's face hitting the snow-covered street. She then felt the pavement again. And again. She could hear the cartilage in her nose breaking. He was slamming her into the rock-crete. Her forehead split. Blood got in her eyes. She had enough. By some lunatic strength Cutthroat bucked the man off of her, rapidly turning the tables on him as she pulled out her brass dagger. Cutting, stabbing, slashing, gouging, the scarred blonde carved the banger's face and neck to ribbons in a fit of inhuman savagery, her increasingly-hoarse shrieking the loudest she ever erupted. Throat burning, Cutthroat finally stopped, her breathing deep and slow and the red in her vision diminishing. Looking up from what was left of her victim, a witness to her demonstration stood frozen in horror. Quietly standing and recovering her axe, Cutthroat simply walked over to the still-petrified viewer and shot him in the face.

Frenzy took her first hit of stimulants just before the Sorority and gangs met, the snort turning into a breathy yowl as her running became a gallop, clambering on all fours. Lunging back up, Frenzy slashed at one of the gangers. It didn't kill him, but she didn't care, swatting at other men in her drug-induced fury. She managed to get several deep cuts into a few throats, and a few chest wounds, but none of her attacks instantly killed their receivers, instead bleeding them out either for her or another Sister to finish off. Totally immersed in the chaos, Frenzy's barking growls had a laughing tone as she snorted another dose of combat drugs, wildly clawing at anyone coming at her. So disconnected from reality made the drug-addled blonde barely register something stuck into her back, yet the pain that followed it seconds later made her snarl angrily. The banger who stabbed her stood dumbstruck for a moment, surprised his move had little effect. Just as he was about to make a second attempt, Frenzy spun around, the man barely getting out an "OH SHI-" before she poked her clawed fingers into his eyes, withdrawing them just as fast as she inserted them, following it up with a head-butt. Still not done, Frenzy dug her claws into his sides and then flung him away.

Not far from Frenzy stood Lacerator, her psychotic laughter hitting a high note as she decapitated a gangbanger, her chainaxe whining alongside her. "I'VE WAITED FOREVER TO FINALLY KILL AGAIN!" She screamed ecstatically to the sky, looking back down to see another criminal coming at her. Toothy grin widening, Lacerator raised her arms to strike downward in a two-handed attack, letting fly when the man somehow got his metal bar in between the head and shaft of her chainaxe, keeping it there with all his might. Pushing back, the brunette cackled, "JUST GIVE IT UP AND FUCKING DIE ALREADY! I AM A DAUGHTER OF KHORNE!" Despite this, the thug stood firm, his length of pipe the only thing between life and death. Inexplicably, he managed to win the struggle, taking advantage of Lacerator's surprise to give her a solid punch in the face, followed by a whack to her stomach with his weapon. Lacerator could feel her two lower ribs break as she fell to the ground, clutching the stricken area in pain. "Who's laughing now, you fucking psycho bitch?" Her attacker smiled evilly, raising the metal bludgeon that saved him. The brunette truly felt fear for a moment until she remembered her laspistol. Acting fast, Lacerator drew the gun just as he yelled, landing a shot in his chest seconds before impact. Staggering back, the banger dropped the pipe and pawed at the wound, and with some difficulty Lacerator got up, getting in his face. "I STILL AM!" She howled, nearly emptying her pistol clip into him, laughing all the while.

"YOU GUYS CALL YOURSELVES WARRIORS?!" Bloodmaw snarled as she hacked off an arm with her chainsword, executing her victim with a shot from her bolt pistol. "Y'ALL FUCKING _SUCK_!" She added, looking around for an opponent. "Wanna bet?" A deep voice resounded behind her, Bloodmaw turning to see an enormous man towering over her. Just as she was about to attack, the big guy backhanded her with a paw-like hand before lifting her by the neck, choking her. "PUT ME DOWN AND FIGHT LIKE A MAN!" the brunette roared, prompting him to tighten his grip. Already feeling lightheaded, Bloodmaw became desperate for an escape, glancing down to notice her feet were at about the same level as the giant's crotch. With nearly all her strength, the brunette kicked him, making a squeaky wail of pain tear from his throat as he dropped her and fell to his knees. Hitting the ground hard, Bloodmaw spent a moment gulping up the blood-scented air before retrieving her weapons. Looking the large man in the eye as he was still keeled over, the brunette snarkily asked, "Don't you boys ever think of protecting that?" before driving her chainsword into his face.

Huntress skillfully dispatched another thug with her power sword, hitting him in the head with the blade's handguard before slicing downwards across his right shoulder. The dirty blonde was about to move forwards when a banger boy dead-legged her left leg from behind, causing her to fall to her other knee. Before she knew what happened next, her head had been upturned as the vagrant opened a large switchblade and ran it across her shemagh. Panic flooded her mind until she heard a tiny scraping noise as the flick-knife went across her neck, remembering the metal choker she always wore underneath the black scarf covering her nose and mouth. A tremendous sigh of relief escaped her, Huntress thanking Khorne she'd live to fight another day. The small smile she grinned from the revelation turned evil as her supposed killer uttered, "What the fuck?!" Grabbing the arm holding her head in place, Huntress pulled on it and stood up at once, effectively judo-flipping the criminal to land in front of her, the top of his head parallel to her feet. She then stomped on his face, then recovered her saber to impale him in the chest.

Close to the lamppost from which Thrasher hung was Knives, who had made a few potshots at nearby enemies with her bolt pistol, none of them connecting. Before she could curse her bad luck, a thug armed with a nail-driven bat charged at her, the young brunette near-instinctively kicking him into the streetlight. Instead of shooting him, Knives tried to stab him, holstering the gun as she closed in the short distance. Unfortunately for her, the banger's stun didn't last long. With a desperate yell he counter-charged and tackled her, throwing punches upon hitting the ground. Knives could feel her left eye begin to swell and the right side of her lip bust, defensively raising her arms to block more attacks. An idea came to mind amidst the struggle, Knives dropping one arm and bending her right leg, trying to reach the knife she held in her boot. Straining to do so, only when she got a solid grip on the blade did she throw off the arm keeping the punk's fists away from her face, using the inertia and surprise of the move to rapidly sit up and stab him in the forehead with a scream. Pushing the now-dead ganger off of her, breath heaving, Knives returned her boot-knife to its sheath and got back up, gathering her dropped blade and stalked off for a new victim.

A dull boom resounded from Executioner's power fist as she punched a thug in the head, turning it into red paste. Turning on her heel she backhanded another charging banger, leaving a large crater in his ribcage. "COME ON, YOU SCUM! FUCKING FIGHT ME!" The young blonde bellowed, standing alone amidst the raging battle. Despite the deafening noise, Executioner swore she heard feet running towards her from behind, her senses correct when she felt herself thrown forward as a vagabond dropkicked her. Luckily, Executioner didn't receive any serious spinal injuries, yet the shock and pain still elicited an anguished cry from her, fearing her oath was nullified. _I'm sorry, Mom,_ she thought, as the criminal, wielding a large shillelagh, closed in. _Take me. I failed._ Executioner awaited the inevitable, feeling both sorry and angry at herself.  
_**Get up.  
**__Mom? Is that you?  
__**Get up. Your time hasn't come yet.**_  
Whether or not Executioner's sense of self-preservation kicked in or the spirit of her mother really did speak to her, she rolled out of the way just as the club came down, hitting the bloody snow with a loud crack. Springing to her feet, the young blonde ran her power fist through the man's stomach, going through him. With a sickening sound, Executioner slowly withdrew the hand and rammed it back into his face.

The Voices had become even more manic and feverish in Legion's mind than usual, perhaps because this was the largest fight she had fought thus far, and she was definitely in sync with their demands for bloodshed. "FEEL…OUR…WRATH..!" She screamed with them, madly cutting a man nearly in half from the shoulder. The gang members not engaged with a Sister wisely stayed away from Legion, for fear of receiving the business end of her chainsword. That is, until one, armed with a stub gun, took a shot at her. _KILL MORE! KILL MORE! KI-_ The Voices suddenly fell silent. The red in Legion's vision evaporated. She screamed. The banger had shot her in the thigh. It was Legion's first gunshot wound of any kind, and it was bleeding profusely. It seemed as though this would immobilize her, but The Voices had rerouted the agony back into their thirst. _ARE YOU GOING TO LET THAT FUCKING COWARD GET AWAY WITH THAT?! _They all snarled as one, _HE DIDN'T HAVE THE FUCKING GUTS TO FACE YOU! HE SHOT YOU LIKE A FUCKING WEAKLING! SHOW HIM HOW TRUE WARRIORS FIGHT, GIRL! MAKE HIM FUCKING SUFFER! _"FUCKING SUFFER!" Legion enunciated the last two words with her mental choir, running at her shooter at full speed. Her first swing with the chainsword, thanks to her renewed fury, bisected him horizontally, yet The Voices urged Legion to keep hacking at what remained of the banger even as the pieces fell to the ground, quite literally leaving nothing left of him. _We are pleased, girl, and so is Khorne._

The distinctive crack of lasguns filled the air as the PDF appeared from the center street, the first three ranks firing a volley into the warzone, dropping gang members and Sisters alike. Inquisitor Backett, standing on the right side of the regiment, ordered an advance. "Forward, boys! Take none of the heretic girls alive!" Massacre, her face covered in blood, most of it not hers, yelled in return, "TIME TO RUN, GIRLS!" The Sorority had planned to escape when the PDF would arrive, using both the east- and westbound streets and regrouping outside town. Adrenaline masking any injuries received, the Sisters broke off the fight and ran off, the gangs joining them to avoid the soldiers' wrath. "After them! You are authorized to kill anyone who tries to stop you!" Graic changed his previous order, his troops now moving at double-time.

The Sorority had entered the square that morning 750 strong, and left with 710. Forty dead and dying Sisters were scattered throughout the area, including ten initiates. Inquisitor Backett, staying behind as the PDF regiment chased the remainders down, walked through the battlefield, Zero-Six-Nineteen in tow. He was hoping to find a Sister who wasn't quite dead, so that he could get a lead on where the rest were fleeing to before her last breath. _Yup, these girls are Khornates alright,_ he rather casually noted, looking at the many mutilated corpses of Fusmouth's underworld. Two bodies in particular caught his attention, those of said Khornates. One was a woman maybe in her late forties, her dead, golden eyes staring upward at nothing. The other was far younger, a teenage girl around sixteen, laying on top of the other, seemingly in defense. A longer look at the two made Graic realize they were mother and daughter, who had fought and died together. _Sickening._ "Are they-" Sergeant Boniface was about to ask him about the exact same thing, the Inquisitor cutting him off with a curt "Yup." Zero-Six-Nineteen all gawked at the sight, having never conceived of such a thing as parents and their children fighting side by side. Backett heard them express their surprise at the notion, turning to them with a simple

"Told you this isn't fiction."

* * *

**And so ends the Introductory Arc of _Sorority_. The next storyline will concern the Sisters on the run and Backett's continued efforts at hunting them down. I have plans as to what happens, but I'm not sharing them.**

**But what I am sharing, however, is that the Sisters have finally come to life. A very good friend of mine, and a great guy all around, whom I personally know, has drawn them. Once I obtain the pictures, I'll put links on my profile page, or if he has a Deviant/Concept Art account I'll find that out and rewrite this area, along with giving him the proper credit.**

**Or you can go to the new forum I've established, named JustSororityThings (a parody of the tumblr blog JustGirlyThings), where not only is the Create-a-Sister template located (which also serves as a submission area. Putting it on my profile page was kind of a bust), but where you, the reader, can ask me or the Sisters themselves about stuff. **

**Have fun with the new stuff, and I'll see you next time!**


	12. Chapter Eleven: Gains and Losses

**If you read the recently-edited Introduction, the sororityofviolence tumblr is a-go.**

**I'm willing to go back and add a few more dead Sisters to Chapter Two, in case anyone wants me to do that. (Justification for Chapter Ten will be explained below)**

**And lastly: Massacre's storm bolter. I'll say right now that it's a custom-made, scaled-down model. How she acquired it will be the subject of a flashback chapter. (Speaking of Massacre, I recently found out her model is pregnant)**

**Alright, enjoy.**

* * *

_Chapter Eleven: Gains and Losses_

The remaining members of the Sorority of Violence left behind in Fusmouth numbered 750 strong that morning. 680 fled the city alive, for twenty-nine additional Sisters were shot by the PDF, or had bled to death trying to temporarily hide if they failed to keep up with their comrades.

In return, the Sorority killed 160 gang members, over twice their losses, due to being better-armed than their opponents. Both the Sisters and Fusmouth underworld would have inflicted more casualties if the PDF had not arrived as quickly as they did. It only took them around half an hour to come and quell the fight, yet the citizenry of Fusmouth would forever call it "The Thirty Minutes of Fear." Nearly every criminal in town was arrested that day, and the PDF was more than happy to put down anyone who resisted.

"Well the good news is that crime will definitely plummet after today." The PDF Captain said to Inquisitor Backett.  
"Bad news is that the cultists got away and we have no idea where they're going, Captain." Graic replied angrily, lighting a lho stick. "Tell your men if they find any of them hiding in town to bring one back alive. Who better to know their next move than one of them?"  
"Aye, Sir." The Captain gave a quick salute, then transmitted the order through his vox-caster operator.

* * *

The Sorority managed to find a large forest four miles outside of town several days before the Battle, and this was where Bonesaw took the noncombatant Sisters to, already setting up a small camp across several clearings. The Sisters who did fight the day of the Battle arrived here late in the afternoon, after running almost non-stop since the PDF broke up the engagement. Gladly wolfing down any offered food and taking massive gulps of drink, the 680 Angels of Khorne set about resting and licking their wounds. Part of being raised in the Sorority was learning some basic medical treatment for oneself, such as proper disinfection, bandaging, and stitching up easily-treatable injuries. Bonesaw handled the rest, which in today's case seemed to be mostly cauterizations with volunteers functioning as nurses and assistants. "SWEET BLOOD AND MERCIFUL THUNDER THAT FUCKING HURTS!" was yelled out by many Sisters as they were being patched up, if they hadn't been knocked out by a well-aimed suckerpunch.

Carnage, Bloodmaw, and Huntress had gotten away from the Battle of Phlegethon relatively unscathed, minus some cuts and bruises, along with the signs of strangulation on Carnage's and Bloodmaw's necks. The three were sitting around a fire, talking amongst themselves.  
"I got five." Carnage said proudly as she added five new notches to her arm.  
"I can get six on a good day." Spat Bloodmaw.  
"Oh yeah? Who's the High Priestess here, smartass? How many'd you get, huh?"  
"She doesn't wanna say. I myself got four, none of them were an eighth kill, though." Huntress deadpanned, not even looking up from mending the tear in her shemagh.  
"Lemme guess, you only got half that." the raven-haired Sister sneered with a grin.  
"Shut up. You try and get kills when you're getting the life strangled outta ya."  
"And therefore, you cannot be critical of me, now can you, Miss I'm a Hypocritical Liar?"  
"I dunno, you seem to tell otherwise, Milk-Eye."

All of Carnage's few friends in the Sorority knew better than to call her "Milk-Eye," for she was quite proud of the scar, claiming that she could still fight as well blind in one eye as she could without, and to mock her non-working right eye was to insult her martial prowess.

Needless to say, Carnage and Bloodmaw nearly rolled into the fire as they fought, with Huntress condescendingly staring at the two. _I get the feeling I'm the only adult here sometimes,_ she thought, before returning to her needlework.

Massacre had to have Bonesaw attend to her shoulder wound, already feeling a bit dizzy from blood loss. The brunette medic carefully probed it, finding the knife had not gone through the other side.  
"How funny," she said, prompting Massacre to ask what was so.  
"He didn't get through your shoulder, but his knife did leave a little pockmark on the back of your shoulder blade. Actually pretty interesting. You'll be okay, but this is gonna need cauterizing."  
The Mistress sighed before putting a rag in her mouth. She already had some burns across her body from previous procedures, so this was nothing new to her. Bonesaw retracted a blade from a fire, the metal glowing with heat.  
"Alright, one…two…three."

* * *

_Ten hours earlier…_

Artemis had never really felt fear since her initiatory battle. Fighting had become fun, the spray of blood in her face and sounds of her chainsword, her victims' screams, and their bodies being ripped apart gave her incredible thrills. But now here she was, cowering amongst scrap and trash in a dead-end alley. Artemis had lost track of her Sisters as they ran from the PDF, forcing herself to hide and find her way out of Fusmouth once night fell. Time seemed to come to a halt, every minute increasing her urge to just make a break for it.

Just as she was, readjusting her position to get ready, a voice caused her to freeze.  
"I think I heard something!"

The way Artemis had hidden herself allowed her to see out into the street, and a group of PDF troopers were looking in her direction. The squad's sergeant muttered something into his com-unit, then barked out, pointing to several of the others,  
"You men, go check that out. If it's one of those heretic girls, take her alive. The Inquisitor needs one to find out where the rest are."

_Inquisitor?_ Artemis thought, half in fear and half in delight. Fear because she had heard from one of the Sorority's temporary allies that Inquisitors were a Servant of Chaos's worst nightmare, and delight from the fact that her Sisterhood had caught their attention. Now she had to figure out what to do in face of this new development. Fighting them to give herself an honorable death would be pointless if they had to take her alive, since they wouldn't kill her, and the Sorority viewed suicide as cowardice. _Guess I'm being captured._

* * *

_The next morning…_

Due to exhaustion and having to tend to their injuries, the Sisters who successfully fled Fusmouth moved the official induction of the initiates, who numbered 105 in all, to the next morning. The new Sisters stood in a rough line of 15 across and 7 deep, their mothers behind them. Massacre, Carnage, and Cutthroat stood before them, their expressions formal. Next to them was a small fire, with three brands shaped into the Mark of Khorne laying in them. A traditional silence filled the area, to accentuate the importance of the event.

Stepping forward, the Mistress cleared her throat before saying, in a regal tone,  
"Standing before us are one-hundred and five girls. They have made their first sacrifices to Khorne and lived to continue on this sacred mission. As such, they are no longer girls, but women. More than women, they are now Sisters to our Sorority of Violence. They are our next generation, from which the next will be born, and their daughters have their own daughters until we all join our Matriarch at Khorne's side in His Fortress. Not all of the candidates who were to become Sisters are here, but they are not to be dishonored. Khorne cares not from whence the blood flows, only that it does, and those initiates who were sent to Him yesterday proved this truth. Instead, we should remember them and their sacrifice so that those who survived can fulfill their divine duty of spilling the blood of Khorne's enemies. And so I say to you, my new Sisters, _tu Reginarum Bellum, Filiarum Khorne, et Angeli Dei Sanguis._"

The newly-minted Sisters then silently walked, three at a time, up to the Mistress and High Priestesses, who each took one of the brands and pressed it into their left shoulders. Some cried out, some winced, and others stoically took the branding that officially made them part of the Sorority. Once all 105 were branded with the Mark, they then returned to their mothers, who took their daughters' left palms and cut a line deep enough to bleed into them with their brass daggers. The orphaned Sisters had this done by Massacre, Carnage, and Cutthroat. The initiates then used their cut hand to soak, streak, or style their hair with the blood.

This symbolized a Sister's devotion to both Khorne and the Sorority, for if she were to spill and stylize her hair with the blood of enemies in their names, she too must be willing to shed her own. It also meant the new Sister was an adult, because she no longer needed tutelage in the ways of war, having experienced it personally.

After every new Sister finished making a pattern of some sort, Massacre tersely stated, "Dismissed." With that, everyone simply wandered off back into camp.  
"It'd be highly unlikely that nobody's after us, Mistress." Cutthroat said to Massacre as they walked away.  
"You're correct, my open-jawed friend. We can't stay here long."

* * *

**What Massacre said at the end of her little speech was Latin for "you are Queens of War, Daughters of Khorne, and Angels of the Blood God."**

**Artemis is an IRL friend of Bonesaw's model, and we collaboratively created the character after I asked her if she knew anything about Bonesaw's model being well, Bonesaw.**

**If you haven't seen the sororityofviolence tumblr, feel free to check it out. I haven't really posted anything significant yet, but within the next week after I post the four Sisters the artist I hired was willing to draw (long story), real content will be up.**

**Thanks again for reading, reviewing, favoriting, and following.**


	13. Chapter Twelve: Interrogation & Insight

**Did you all miss me? **

**Sorry about the delay, things kept getting in the way, my laptop was wonky for a couple of days, and it was hard to come up with things. But yeah, a new chapter is here, the tumblr is up (and the "ask" feature is also working), and the remaining Sisters' pictures will be coming soon. (I will soon be asking you all whom you consider the best looking)**

**I figured this one would be a bit of a better development of the characters who haven't really had one, like Cutthroat, Frenzy, Lacerator, Executioner, Legion, Frostbite and Skadi, and Bonesaw. Hence the name of the chapter, "Interrogation and Insight."**

**Anyway, here it is. Enjoy.**

* * *

_Chapter Twelve: Interrogation and Insight_

Artemis woke up when an angry hand connected with her face. Blinking rapidly, the brunette yowled in pained fury, about to lunge at her slapper when she realized her wrists and ankles were held in place on the chair she was sitting in.  
"Wakey-wakey, ya little harlot." Inquisitor Backett growled.  
"IF I WERE FREE RIGHT NOW I'D RIP YER FUCKING THROAT OUT CORPSE-SLAVE!"  
"Huh. Khornates really are mad dogs. Thanks for proving me right."  
"I'M TELLING YOU NOTHING! NOT EVEN IF YOU ALMOST KILL ME! MY LOYALTY GOES ABOVE MY LIFE!"  
"Aww, that's actually kinda cute. If you weren't a follower of a false idol your little quote would be written in some inspirational book. Now then, before we get to you telling me where the rest of your little friends went, at least let me know your own name. I'm trying not to use the porta-rack on someone as young as you. I'd feel bad about that." Graic was half-truthful in regards to that, for he always hated having to resort to extreme torture when interrogating younger Chaos Cultists, mostly because they would be more likely to crack at the mere mention of it.  
"WHY DO YOU CARE? YOU'RE GONNA EXECUTE ME ANYWAY."  
"Trust me, you're worth a lot more to me alive than you are dead, honey. I try and be the 'good' Inquisitor when I'm questioning young'uns. But hey, if you'll be a good girl I'll at least let you go down swinging. What do you say to that, Miss…?"

_It's just my name. What do I got to lose telling him that?_ Artemis sighed before saying, "Artemis. My name's Artemis."  
"There, was that so hard, Artemis? You're already that much closer to having an honorable death. Now then, let's start for _real_."

* * *

The day after the new Sisters were inducted, the Sorority began wandering northward, towards a distant mountain range. They figured the difficult terrain would make pursuit equally hard, so off they went. Everyone who could carry a gun or weapon carried one, in case any sort of pursuers were nearby. Those who weren't armed were the youngest, their mothers, and the badly-injured, a majority of them supporting each other as they walked or limped. The mountains were always visible in some way as the Sisters made their way toward them, which prompted Skadi to say to her sister,  
"Remind you of where you found the crystals?"  
"Mhm. You were there with me, y'know. Remember?"  
"Oh, yeah. We started fightin' over who got to keep 'em."  
Frostbite snickered. "Yeah, and then mom came and really let us have it."  
"Didn't she make us stand real close next to each other and fired a round between our heads?"  
"Haha, yeah, she did! My ear was still ringing the next morning!"  
"Then she said to you, 'you're the older one, and you saw 'em first. You keep 'em.'"  
"We didn't talk to each other for a week after that."  
"Good times, good times."

Elsewhere amongst the traveling cult, Frenzy was still shaking as she moved, despite her relative sobriety. Withdrawal from her combat drugs made her much more susceptible to external stimuli like weather, and she usually slept it off, often going for almost a day. While she did the day before, it had to be a light sleep in case Bonesaw needed her to wake up in regards to the stab wound in her back. As such, Frenzy was quite irritable today, and whenever she was, it was almost as bad as the notoriously cranky Bloodmaw. _No sleep…hungry…not enough breakfast…gotta eat…wanna warm up..._ she thought, thoroughly miserable. Luckily for her, a small mammal, about the size of a squirrel, had been darting nearby, stopping occasionally to sniff the air. _FOOD! _Frenzy mentally rejoiced when she noticed the little beast, quickly slipping on her claws and inhaling a small amount of stimulants. Going after the fast-moving animal, she jostled or even knocked over any Sisters in her way, earning her many profane shouts and rude gestures as she ran by. Ignoring them, Frenzy kept her bloodshot eyes focused on her prey, which seemed to never get within reaching distance. Chasing it for a good fifteen minutes, causing Frenzy to run ahead of the rest, she finally managed to catch the annoying creature, biting its little throat out as it still attempted to resist. _So…warm…so…bloody…so…GOOD!_ The blonde junkie thought as she ravenously ate the animal raw, spitting out bones and some of its organs as she did. Its blood ran down her mouth and onto her throat and sternum, reinforcing the idea of Frenzy as a feral savage. It probably wouldn't stay in her stomach very long because it was raw, but the animal sated her hunger and pursuing it warmed her up. _Better. So much better._

Once the rest of the Sorority caught up with Frenzy, they all stopped momentarily to let the more burdened of their number briefly rest. Everyone either sat or simply flopped down on the ground, taking advantage of the break.  
"Don't get comfortable, ya lazy good-for-nothings, this is just gonna be about ten minutes." Massacre scolded, before looking for a place to sit. The only place seemed to be close to Carnage, who was counting her scars again. Sighing, the Mistress figured she and the High Priestess should talk out what had happened two weeks earlier in the warehouse, so she sat next to her with a small,  
"Uh, Carnage?"  
The black-maned Sister did a sigh of her own and rolled her eyes before growling, "_What_, Mistress?"  
"About that…'thing' that happened back there-"  
"I don't wanna talk about it. Can we just forget that happened?"  
"Trust me, I do, just let me know _why_ it did."  
Whispering, Carnage answered, "Ok, look, a voice got in my head and tried to convince me that we secretly…um…_want_ each other, and when I kept fighting back she did something to make me…well…y'know."  
"Alright, that's all I wanted to know. I'll leave you alone now."  
Getting up, Massacre headed off away from the High Priestess, who started fidgeting uncomfortably. _What if that crazy slut-dog was right? _

Sure enough, the Sisters resumed their journey a few minutes later, Executioner somehow conversing with Lacerator. The two were polar opposites, one maniacally gleeful and the other gloomy and obsessed with vengeance.  
"Y'think maybe we'll find some horses round here and take 'em for ourselves?" the brunette asked out of nowhere.  
"…what?" the puzzled blonde replied.  
"I've always wanted to ride into battle at least once. Y'know how much fun that would be?"  
Executioner found herself imagining that scenario, thundering towards some enemy on a horse, her left hand hanging on the side, power fist glowing.  
"Guess that actually would be kinda cool. Never thought about that."  
"You kidding me?! That'd be fucking _awesome_! Can you imagine…heheh...haha…can you imagine what the people fighting us would be like? Hahaha…they'd be like, "oh shit, they got horses now!" AhahaHA…ha-hahaha…"  
Even the downtrodden Executioner couldn't help cracking a grin and laughing a little. Perhaps Lacerator had that sort of effect on people.

Legion, meanwhile, was lost in the swirling abyss of voices that was her mind, disembodied echoes and whispers floating about and saying multitudes of words and phrases.

**FIGHT**

_You must slay_

**KILL**

Khorne demands blood

Sanity is for the weak

_**You're mad. Hopelessly mad.**_

**CURSED**

_Am I?_ Legion managed to think to herself, momentarily quieting the Voices. Most days, she simply listened to the mental commentaries, sometimes even getting advice and suggestions from them, other days she wanted nothing more than silence. Rarely did she ever actually _think_ about what some of the Voices said, but the fact that this one called her "cursed" made her wonder just _why_ it said that.

As the young blonde pondered the meaning behind one of her Voices' outbursts, Cutthroat tread silently, her forehead stitched and nose heavily bandaged. The face full of concrete she had been fed at the Battle of Phlegethon had done that to her, and it was one of Bonesaw's most complex surgeries she had done so far.  
"How's it holding up?" said brunette medic asked the blonde High Priestess.  
"You did good. Nose isn't hurting as much."  
"Thanks. None of my textbooks really said anything about your nose almost being bashed in the way yours was." Bonesaw was referring to her satchel of looted medical guides and treatment instructions, which she would refer to from time to time.  
"I bet. Luckily I returned the favor much worse to the guy who did it. Just about literally ripped his face off." Cutthroat replied, remembering the brief period of berserk rage she flew into after being slammed a few too many times into the ground.  
"Wish I saw that, and actually just fought in general. I've been aching for another one since we got here."  
"Y'know you can't do that. You're too valuable."  
"I know, but still. I'm still a Sister, aren't I? Fixing you guys up after you have all the fun is getting old."  
"Maybe you'll get to fight again soon."

Suddenly, everyone stopped. The forest had gradually been going downhill since they began moving earlier that morning, and now the Sisters at the lead stood on a plateauing point that led back down again.

At the bottom, some distance away, stood what appeared to be a walled commune.  
_**  
**_

* * *

**Cliffhanger!**

**I'm kinda disappointed there's no align-right here on FF, because that's how some of the Voices are written in the Word document for this chapter, to better give the impression of "floating about" in Legion's head.**

**This idea of coming across a secluded group literally hit me not too long ago, and I figured I oughta put it in. Who inhabits this place? What will they do? Will Artemis crack and reveal to Backett where the Sisters are? Why am I asking you all these questions? Find out next chapter!**

**Until it's posted, be sure to give the tumblr blog We. Are. The Sorority of Violence a look and maybe follow or ask a question to me or the Sisters. Once someone (just one person. C'mon, just one) starts following I'll start posting things like Miscellaneous Sorority Facts, all of the ideas I've had about these characters, along with taking any suggestions from you all, and any fanart (such as your own Sister, or a female celebrity "Sororitized") requested/commissioned (once I learn how to use )/just sent in will be shared.**

**Ok, think that's about everything. Till next time, readers!**


	14. Chapter Thirteen: Captives and Company

**Hello again, readers! New chapter about our favorite Sisters, exactly three weeks from the one before. Until the semester ends updates may stay like this, depending on how quickly I come up with the next chapter. Anyhoo, has anyone seen the drawings of Knives and Executioner on the SoV tumblr yet? Whenever the rest of the Sorority has their pictures posted (drawn by a different artist), hopefully it'll give you all a bit of reference if you ever want to create your own Sister.**

**Ok, here's the new chapter.**

* * *

_Chapter Thirteen: Captives and Company_

The leading Sisters saw what looked like some sort of walled-off cluster of buildings from where they were, a plateauing point on the downward slope the Sorority had been traveling on to escape Fusmouth. The commune, or outpost, whatever it was, was far enough away to where any inhabitants couldn't see them, unless the whole Sorority moved at once towards it.

"Blood and thunder." Massacre muttered, and many other Sisters said similar things under their own breaths. After all, hadn't they been through enough? First the manhunt for them in the city, then the sixty-nine lost (and one unknowingly captured) during the Battle of Phlegethon, and now this. Of course, perhaps the Sorority could bypass them, but night was still a long time away, and any pursuers could catch up to them in that space.

"We could easily take 'em, Mistress." said Carnage, getting a reply of,  
"We're on the run, stupid. Can't afford to get caught if these people have connections to the ones after us."  
At that moment, Knives spoke up with, "Maybe they won't fight us. Might just hate people. You oughta defect and live with 'em, Bloodmaw."  
Said brunette only gave Knives a death glare, but the younger one ignored it.  
"Since you suggested it, and you apparently want your skull on the Throne already, go look for yourself, Knives." The Mistress snarkily "ordered," not thinking Knives would take her seriously, but was surprised when the young knife nut actually started moving towards the distant establishment, pulling up her mask as she said, her voice defiant,  
"Alright, I will."

The entire Sorority stared in disbelief as Knives walked down the hill, loading her bolt pistol.  
"I'm gonna bet the rest of my liquor she won't make it to the wall 'fore she gets shot full a holes." Bloodmaw murmured to Huntress, who offered her hand to accept the wager.

Still walking upright, Knives pulled out Blood from its sheath on her left hip, her pistol in her right hand. It was going to be awhile before anyone in the fort/commune could see her, so the brunette went at a leisurely pace, eyes trained on her destination and occasionally scratching an itch with the spine of her blade. Only when she got within shooting distance did Knives actually try and walk more stealthily, crouching as she moved closer towards the settlement, despite their being no convenient snow banks to hide behind. Of it, what the knife-loving girl could see was that it did not appear to have watchtowers, save for two close to what Knives assumed were the gates. _So much for security_, she thought, slowing down to minimize the noise she was making.

Upon reaching the wall, which seemed to be made of wood, Knives pressed herself against it, straining to try and hear anything through the barricade. Back where the rest of the Sorority was, Bloodmaw rolled her eyes with an annoyed huff before pulling out a flask of liquor and handing it to Huntress, who took it with a teasing grin.

After several seconds, Knives gave up on trying to eavesdrop, and instead knelt, carefully stabbing the tip of her knife into the wall, followed by making a drilling motion, in order to make a small peephole. Several of the Sisters got in for a closer look as Knives did this, watching for anyone heading towards the brunette's position.

They weren't disappointed, for what appeared to be a single person was walking, or more accurately, wandering around the commune or fort to the right of where Knives continued her work, both of them oblivious to each other.  
"I'm getting my drink back if whoever that mongrel is sends Knifey to Khorne." Bloodmaw muttered to Huntress, who simply returned with,  
"No take-backs, people-hater."  
Just before Bloodmaw was about to yell at the quiet swordswoman, Massacre shushed them both as the stranger got closer to where Knives was, and seemed to notice her.

"Y'know, you could've just went around front and knocked." Knives heard a voice say, immediately letting go of Blood, which stayed in the wall, and grabbing her bolt pistol, swiveling to point it at the source, a young woman with the face of an angel and the body of a succubus.  
"What's it matter to you, bitch?" the brunette snarled, not firing in case there were any others.  
The odd lady took note of the black eye Knives still had, replying,  
"I understand you're still angry at your male oppressor, and are projecting it on others."  
"The fuck are you talking about? I got no man." _Except the ones I kill,_ Knives thought, almost saying it.  
"Of course you don't. You're free now. Come on in, young lady, everyone here is a poor girl like you who suffered at the hands of some man, be it their father, boyfriend, husband, or some other guy."  
_You kidding me?! Men, and slut-dogs like this one, suffer at my hand in the name of Khorne. I'm not dreaming…am I?_  
"I don't need your help. I'm just trying to figure out who was here. Guess you did it for me, lady. Now, would you prefer your brains splattered on the wall or out in the snow?"  
"Please, sweetheart, I'm only trying to help. Just put the gun down."  
"Like I said, slut-dog, I don't need your help, now we can either forget this happened or I blow your fucking head off. Your choice."  
"Denial's the first part of grief and newfound freedom, dear."

Suddenly, Knives felt the arm holding her pistol lower, even though she didn't consciously make the motion. _What the-_ just before she could finish the thought, she suddenly felt compliant on going in, even though she didn't want nor need to. Getting up and removing her knife from the wall, Knives holstered her pistol and sheathed the blade, walking with the woman back to the front towards the gates.

Naturally, the rest of the Sorority was confused upon seeing this.  
"Y'think maybe they're fellow Khornates?" asked Lacerator, hoping an opportunity for a fight would arise out of it.  
"Un-fuckin-likely, you giggling halfwit." Massacre barked in response, then turned to face all of the Sisters. "Alright, listen up. As most of you know, Knives for some reason went in there and we need to get her back. As much as I'd like to storm the place, we can't afford any more casualties right now and if these people are connected to the army here, they can call for backup. So anyone want to go in and rescue her?"  
"Can't we just leave her there? It's not like anyone'll miss her." Bloodmaw spoke up, earning a hard bitch-slap from Huntress, which quickly became an actual fight.

Massacre simply watched them for a moment with an arched brow and pursed lips, before saying,  
"Okay, still looking for some volunteers."  
Nobody immediately raised a hand or stepped forward, mostly because they were watching Bloodmaw and Huntress continue their spat. _You guys are pathetic,_ the Mistress thought, looking at her Sisters. Amongst them, Executioner wasn't really watching, instead staring at the commune, her right hand habitually playing with the severed left one she was wearing around her neck. It once belonged to the Commissar who killed Executioner's mother, and the young blonde kept it as both a trophy and a form of remembrance.

"Hey, Executioner, why don't you go?" Said Massacre, only to get,  
"Why me?" from the girl.  
"Cuz I said so, stupid. Plus you seem like you want to."  
"Aw come on, can't we get someone else? My back still hurts from the other day." Executioner whined, trying to make an excuse, only for a nearby Cutthroat to growl at her,  
"At least you didn't almost get your face rearranged via concrete, you weakling."  
"Not stabbed in back, either. Lost sleep from that. Lotta sleep." Frenzy added.  
"I BROKE TWO RIBS!" Lacerator loudly input.  
"And I got stabbed in the shoulder. You're going, Executioner. Suck it up. That's part of being a Sister." The Mistress finished the condemnation, making said blonde sigh and roll her eyes.  
"Okay, fine. I'll go get Knives back and we can move on."

"We can't really wait for you two. The rest of us are going to keep going-"Massacre began before Executioner interrupted,  
"What?! You're just gonna leave us behind?!"  
"Relax, we're gonna take the long way round the place," the Mistress pointed towards the northwest, "besides, we won't be too far away, and if you're not with us by nightfall we'll send out a search party. I think you'll be okay."

A brief period of silence followed until Executioner broke it with,  
"Alright, want me to go in now?"  
"Nah, wait a little while."  
"Why?"  
"Knives seemed to go in willingly. If you suddenly go in they'll get suspicious. Go in a little later and they'll think you're searching for her. Got it?"  
"Yeah, that makes sense. Ok, guess I'll see you guys tonight."  
"Hold on, you can't go in with that hand around your neck."  
"But this belonged to the bastard that killed Mom!"  
"I know that. Just let us hold on to it. It's not like we'll let it get destroyed or anything."  
Executioner removed her grisly necklace with a forlorn expression, handing it to Massacre, who then said,  
"Oh, and the fist too."  
The vengeance-driven blonde now scowled as she gave her power fist to her Sisters, who then proceeded to resume their journey northwards.

* * *

Artemis wasn't sure how much more she could take. This was killing her. During her first morning as Inquisitor Backett's prisoner, and when he first interrogated her, the young brunette Sister remained defiant even as he gave her a vicious beating between questions, until he said,  
"Y'know what? I almost forgot you were a Khornate, Artemis. I bet this is normal for you. So instead, I'll try something different."  
Leaving her cell, Backett came back several minutes later with a syringe and injected it into her neck, and next thing she knew, Artemis had the worst fever she could imagine, her stomach felt like it was filled with wet concrete, she couldn't breathe through her nose, her throat was burning, and her muscles were absolutely sapped. She almost felt like crying for how much misery she was in. The worst part was that she hadn't been released from the chair she was held in, and had been in agony like this since then. The pain was so intense she couldn't even sleep, and all Artemis wanted was to do was curl up into a ball and just make it end.

Inquisitor Backett had been monitoring Artemis since he injected the drug, and it was working perfectly. The drug in question, which was referred to as "Dreamer's Illness," worked in a way that replicated and magnified several common symptoms of equally-common sicknesses across the Imperium, although the victim wasn't actually sick to begin with. The effects of Dreamer's Illness were permanent until an antidote was administered, although many times those under the influence of it would simply lose the will to live or commit suicide. It was usually used by more ethical Inquisitors on young prisoners as a way of getting them to talk, although some weak-willed adults, and occasional followers of Khorne and Tzeentch, would often receive it. _She seems broken enough_, Graic thought, walking into her cell, lighting up a lho stick.

"Sooo…how's it going?" he casually asked, taking a drag as he did.  
"Go fuck yourself." Artemis hoarsely whispered, her voice thin.  
"I'll take that as you being good. Think you're ready to talk, girl?"  
"Over my dead body."  
"Really?" The Witch Hunter said as he pulled out another syringe, this one containing the antidote, "Because I have the end to all your ailments right here."

Artemis looked at the needle, hoping he was right. As much as she wanted to be rid of this torture and die fighting, she still couldn't betray her Sisters just for that. Seeing her in this dilemma of relief or treachery, Graic further tempted her, waving the injector in her face and mocking,  
"C'mon, you know you want this. Just say where the rest of your filth went and you'll be sent to that fake god of yours the way he wants his pet lunatics to go. It's only one word, Artemis. North, south, east, west, whatever. One _honest_ word and this'll be yours."

* * *

**MOAR CLIFFHANGERS!**

**Seriously though, in case you're wondering why replicating illness would be considered torture for a follower of Khorne, think about it for a minute. Nurglites and Slaaneshi wouldn't be affected by it, because Nurglites are, y'know, already diseased, and Slaaneshi are masochists. Remember, pain and pleasure don't really matter to Khorne or his followers. You fight to fight, and are expected to die fighting too. So dying a slow, non-violent, and relatively bloodless death is considered a bad way to go by the standards of a bunch of batshit-crazy berserkers. I think Khorne actually has the souls of warriors who died peacefully enslaved in his Fortress, if I remember correctly. So that's where I got the idea of "sickness=torture for Khornates" from. Oh, and Tzeentch is Nurgle's opposite, so this would work on his followers for that reason.**

**Other than that, if you ever do want to make your own Sister, there's the tumblr that lays down the ground rules for it, and a list of names if you want to name her. If you're drawing a full-body picture, feel free to consult me on arming and dressing her. (I'll say right here that in terms of outfits, Sisters wear their armor under their clothes, mostly for stealth. For clothes themselves, think of post-apocalyptic/scavenger type thing, mixed with vaguely tribal elements (feathers, beads, and trophies (made from human body parts!))**

**That's about everything, so I'll be seeing you next chapter!**


	15. Chap 14: Close Friends, Closer Enemies

**I'm back, boys 'n' girls!**

**So here's the new chapter, and I must say, you know what I miss from you guys? REVIEWS! I mean, it's nice having faves and followers, but I still want to hear your actual opinions on this story.**

**In other news, I'm still recruiting new Sisters on the tumblr, and Massacre's model is having a girl.**

**Alright, on with the show.**

* * *

_Chapter Fourteen: Close Friends, Closer Enemies_

Watching the Sorority wander off gave Executioner an uneasy feeling. If something were to happen to her and Knives while the former was getting the latter out of the commune, there'd be no real way of getting help. Even if the two were to go down fighting, Executioner didn't have the luxury of her power fist to aid her in her efforts. All she had was her laspistol and brass dagger.

_Why do I even have to be the one to rescue Knives, anyway?_ The young blonde thought, _it's not like she and I are friends or anything._ Truth be told, Knives and Executioner rarely spoke to one another, at best simply shooting the breeze whenever they did. _Oh well, they left me behind. Guess I gotta go get her._ Just before Executioner started the walk downhill, she remembered that her pistol was visible. _Can't go in looking armed_, undoing the belt containing her holster. She then removed it, followed by unbuckling her actual belt and slightly lowering her thick trousers, momentarily exposing her toned legs to the chilly early-afternoon air. Redoing the gun belt on her hips, leaving just enough of her pistol butt out to draw it, Executioner pulled her pants back up, put her other belt on, and readjusted her shirt and jacket to further hide her laspistol and dagger on the back.

It was then Executioner was ready to go, stuffing her hands in the pockets of her coat as she walked towards the commune. _Just knock, go in, get Knives, and get the fuck out. Don't let them stop us for questions. If they try to keep us in, we fight._ Our current protagonist repeated this little mantra in her mind as the commune became clearer in her view. The closer she got, the more she felt that same feeling from earlier. _Something's definitely weird about this place._

Making her way around to the gates of the little settlement, Executioner simply stood there for a moment, staring up at the structure. The entrance wasn't all that intimidating in terms of looks, but the blonde's anxiety had become even stronger here, like the gates were the focal point of it. With a deep breath, Executioner stepped forward and lightly banged her fist on the wood.

At first, nothing happened. Nobody on the inside responded. So Executioner tried again. This time, she could hear something vaguely resembling voices from within, and perhaps footsteps. After a moment, one of the doors opened with a loud creak, exposing a small young lady not much older than the blonde, with wavy, slightly curly dark brown hair.  
"Uh, I'm looking for-"Executioner was about to say, when the brunette cried,  
"Oh, you poor thing! Who did that to you?"  
"Did what?"  
"That! Around your mouth!" the strange woman pointed to the cross shape Executioner had cut as a form of grieving and to permanently remind herself of her mission.  
"Um…I did?"  
"Well, here you never have to cut yourself ever again! Please, come in."

Following the brunette into the commune, Executioner saw that it was filled entirely with equally-young women, none much older than mid-20's. _Is this basically what we'd be like if we weren't servants of Khorne?_ The blonde thought as she looked around, hoping to spot Knives amongst them. So far, all she saw were preteen girls playing together, teenage and young adult girls chatting, and occasionally some were crying and being comforted by others. This was when Executioner realized the woman was talking.  
"We started this place as a shelter for all of the girls in and around Fusmouth who were abused by the men in their life. Here, we are safe. Here, we are free."  
"Uh, okay, that's nice. All I'm here for is my friend, lady. The brown-haired girl in the mask who came in not too long ago?"  
"We're all friends here, honey. You don't have to play favorites."  
Now the blonde was started to get annoyed. "Look, she and I were just coming through and wanted to make sure you guys weren't hostile. Now if you don't mind, please lead me to her so we can leave."

The brunette guide looked at her with an odd expression, one Executioner couldn't distinguish between barely-contained anger and confusion. After a second, the woman cleared her throat and replied,  
"Why do you want to go back out into the cold, dark world where men can freely degrade and abuse you? What makes you want to live amongst such filthy and soulless creatures?"  
Executioner almost wanted to reveal herself as a Khornate and shoot this woman squarely between the eyes, but that probably wouldn't get her closer to finding Knives. Instead, she told a partial truth.  
"Miss, we can handle ourselves. Both of us know how to fight and are damn good at it. Now where the fuck is my friend?"  
"I'm sorry for my behavior, darling. I forgot you're still coming to terms with freedom. So I'll take you to her. But please, stay awhile." The brunette's expression softened, returning to her caring nature and motioning to where Knives was. _Now we're getting somewhere._

At first, Executioner was figuring that Knives would be bound and gagged, and that this whole thing was a trap, but the truth was far from that. Sitting hunched over a table was Knives, playing Five Finger Fillet with her infamous speed amongst a spellbound audience. _What in the name of Khorne is going on?_ The yellow-eyed brunette's blade furiously danced across her left hand, hard thumps emanating from the wooden table every time the tip hit it, a rhythm nearly forming in it. Even Executioner couldn't help but watch for a moment, awed at Knives' dexterity. This continued for several more seconds, when Knives lifted Blood again, and instead of bringing it back down, she raised it high and twirled it, then dramatically impaled it into the table, earning her a round of applause.

As the crowd kept going, Executioner walked towards Knives, who saw her and said,  
"Oh, hey. What's up?"  
"Can we talk for a minute?" the blonde hissed, pulling her-now protesting brunette contemporary as she did, dragging her towards a relatively quiet area of the commune, Knives' audience dispersing.  
"What in the name of Khorne are you doing?!" Executioner angrily whispered.  
"Aw c'mon, I was just having a little fun."  
"Haven't you forgotten we're being chased?! What if this all some sorta trap?!"  
"Relax, blondie. These weirdos seem harmless. I dunno what this "male oppression" shit is they're talking about, but I wasn't planning on staying anyway."  
"Then why the fuck did you come in at all?"  
"I dunno. Just felt like it. Besides, what's wrong with taking a little break every once in a while?"

Just as Executioner was about to refute Knives, a young girl's voice spoke up.  
"Hey Kay, we were just about to play Truth or Dare. Wanna join us?"  
"We're about to leave, young'un." The blonde rudely answered, only to be reprimanded by Knives,  
"She meant we'll be leaving after a round or two."  
The little girl smiled giddily, before going off towards a forming circle.

Executioner stared at Knives with incredulous fury, who met it with,  
"It's only a couple of rounds. After that we'll definitely leave."  
"We'd better. And why'd she call you Kay?"  
"First name I could think of."

Sitting down in the circle of girls, the two Sisters were offered a pair of drinks by the brunette woman who brought Executioner in.  
"You two thirsty?" she said, holding the cups out.  
"Sure, I'll take one." Knives replied, taking one and immediately sipping it.  
Executioner took hers cautiously, slowly drinking out of it only to taste some sort of sugary-sweet liquid. It was definitely something new, since the only things the Sorority drank were water, liquor, recaf, and the occasional blood, which was often mixed into the other three.  
"I dunno what this is, but I like it." Said the knife-loving brunette, expressing approval before having another swig.  
"I don't trust her." the blonde muttered, staring down into the cup.  
"Calm down. We're leaving in a little bit and if shit hits the fan we're both armed." Knives whispered the last part of that, before turning back to the other girls and loudly asking,  
"Ok, we starting or what?"

Sure enough, the game started a minute later, with the girl on the opposite side of Knives and Executioner asking the one to her right, which was how the game continued. After a few truths and some silly dares, the girl to the left of Knives, a blonde young lady named Kyshea, had her turn.  
"Alright Kay, Truth or Dare?"  
"Dare me, sucker." Knives boldly answered.  
"I dare you…" Kyshea paused to stifle a giggle, "to kiss your friend. On the lips."  
"Fuck no!" the blonde and brunette Sisters simultaneously objected, only for Kyshea to say,  
"But you have to, you picked Dare."  
"Not if we're leaving!"

_Oh no ya don't_, thought the woman that had led Knives into the commune, and had been watching the pair as they got up, grinning maliciously as she began making strange gestures.

Knives and Executioner immediately froze, and felt their bodies twist to face each other, despite their minds' demands to stop.

And suddenly, they were mentally blank. All thoughts simply stopped.

The succubus-like lady made more hand motions, her smile never leaving her face.

Intense desire found its way into Knives and Executioner, causing them to step closer, gradually embracing until they crashed their lips into the other's, the girls they had been playing with wearing the same expression as the one making them do this.

As the Sisters hungrily kissed, they both felt their rush of lust begin to diminish, a peaceful haze of sleepiness replacing it. Their grips loosened. Their shut eyes grew heavier. Legs weakened.

When they finally broke after about a minute, Executioner collapsed onto Knives, who landed on her back as she too passed out.

The sorceress slinked over to the unconscious Sisters, still smiling.  
"They look so cute together like that." She mockingly stated, then turned to the wavy-haired brunette who brought in Executioner.  
"Nice work with those knockout drops, Challie."  
"I know my stuff." Challie replied impishly.  
"I helped too!" Kyshea pouted, folding her arms.  
"I never said you didn't, Kyshea. I know how much you liked watching that. Now help getting things ready. These two are going to be excellent sacrifices."

* * *

**For those of you keeping score at home, the official number of Sorority femslash ships is now at two, minus Frostbite/Skadi, because that's technically Elsanna. Now the only real reason, outside of me thinking these two really would work as a ship, that this was a thing is because I figured that if this ever catches on, people will probably start shipping Sisters anyway, and this is my method of both beating them to the punch and saying that MassaCarnage (I even came up with names) and FistBlades would be the only reasonable ones. The other characters are simply too crazy to really do anything like this with. I promise, this is the last time any Sisters do the lesbian (well, canonically). No more fanservice. I MEAN IT.**

**On a related note, I also want to apologize for the "toned legs" in the second paragraph. I was actually thinking of Executioner's model when I wrote that, and let me say, IRL, Executioner is a serious vixen.**

**I'm also accepting short prompts on the tumblr's ask page, where you can request a mini-story about any of the Sisters (yes, including the ships) or the Sorority in general, like what they'd do if they were suddenly transported to the present, or what they'd be like if they were born now.**

**Ok, I'll stop talking. See you next chapter!**


	16. Chapter Fifteen: Breakout

**Hellooo FanFiction! Back with another chapter!**

**Really though, I'm sorry for the delay. I was on Tumblr asking people if they wanted to create a Sister, and while they said yes, they haven't submitted them yet. They were going to appear in this chapter, but I figured it had been too long as just decided to publish it.**

**So, sorry to those people, you'll come in soon.**

**In other news, today I met an excellent artist and asked if she took commissions. I'll keep you updated on whether or not she draws the Sorority (check the Tumblr!)**

* * *

_Chapter Fifteen: Breakout_

As St. Fu's sun began to set, the Sorority of Violence stopped for the night. Knives and Executioner had not returned, leaving Mistress Massacre frustrated and slightly anxious at the same time. Surely one of them was a decent tracker, the rest of the Sisters practically blazed a trail through the woods. Of course, snow could fall as the night wore on, leaving them lost.  
"Sun's setting, Mistress." said Bonesaw, "We better start looking for 'em, right?"  
Looking over at the brunette surgeon, Massacre replied, "Yup. Start getting a search party together."  
Just before she began looking for candidates, Bonesaw spoke, words slightly uneasy, "I was gonna ask, Mistress, if I could come along. I haven't been in a fight since Agonizer got her arm lopped off."  
"We might not run into trouble, you know that, right?"  
"Yeah, but, still. Fixing you all up is getting boring."  
With a sigh, Massacre accepted the request. "Ok, you can come. Just leave your medical stuff with your apprentice. You never know when Khorne will take you."  
"Don't worry, I taught her well."

Carnage didn't need much convincing to come along, and neither did Lacerator. Frenzy said she wanted to sleep, and Cutthroat wanted to recover a bit more before she "got her face rearranged again." Frostbite and Skadi agreed to join the search, along with several others. The search party wasn't very big, but few were expecting any sort of trouble.

* * *

Artemis couldn't bear the agony any more. The suffering was gnawing at her will like a starved dog. Inquisitor Backett had left a few hours ago when she refused to confess even with the antidote to the poison killing her was right in her face. It had become a useless endeavor to fight the pain anymore, for it only seemed to worsen. It wasn't like Artemis had anything to lose, since she was hoping the rest of the Sorority had found somewhere safe to hide.

Swallowing with teary eyes, which was a painful thing to do with her throat ablaze, Artemis finally croaked out,  
"West."  
The cell she was occupying had a security vid-capture in it, capable of recording audio as well. Backett had been watching the monitor for a while now, and hearing her say "west" was surprising, considering the fact that Artemis had mostly been silent during her imprisonment. Immediately, Graic went back to the cell, opening up the heavy door while saying,  
"Did you say west?"  
"Yeah. Now please, let me out and rid me of this…this…"  
"Not so fast. You're coming with me to look for the rest of your vermin, and you won't be given the antidote until you're the last one alive."  
As in pain as Artemis was, she couldn't help but scream in murderous rage, "YOU FUCKING LIAR! YOU'RE GONNA GET RIPPED APART BY MY SISTERS BEFORE THAT HAPPENS!"  
"My Emperor, girl, you need to calm down." With that, the Inquisitor pulled out a stun-gun, shooting the Sister and knocking her out.

* * *

"Tonight, my fellow revelers in the gifts of Slaanesh, we will give a sacrifice as an appreciation for the wondrous pleasures bestowed upon us in exchange for undying fealty." The Sorceress of the Dark Prince spoke to her fellow cultists, standing before a heavily drugged Knives and Executioner on a small, stage-like platform, a large fire separating it from the crowd, both Khornates tied to stakes. Looking at them momentarily with a grin, the witch continued,  
"And not just any sacrifices. No, these two lovely girls are the _best_ sort of sacrifices. Blasphemers, of the worst kind. Far better than any sort of Corpse-Slave, or rotting worshipper of the Father of Plagues, or even the hopeless truth-seekers of the Lord of Change. What we have here are servants of our arch-enemy. Two followers of the God of Ignorance, those who live only for the thrill of war, never knowing that their short, short lives have limitless avenues of pleasure, instead channeling it all into rage and anger. That, my darlings, is the _worst_ sort of blasphemy. The lowest, blackest sin imaginable. As such, they must be punished with death, and shall be punished further in the afterlife."

The rest of the Slaaneshi cultists raised a yell and a fist, all the while chanting, "Punish them! Punish them!"

All Knives and Executioner heard was loud gibberish, due to the effects of the drug. They were only vaguely aware of their surroundings, vision blurred and everything sounding like they were underwater. The Sorceress came closer to them, laying hands on both of their faces, cooing,  
"You two are so cute. I'll make your demises quite…exciting."

Whipping back around, the Sorceress yelled out, "Who should be played with first?!"

Various shouts of either "the blonde" or "the brunette" responded, some calling for both. Turning back to the prisoners, the Sorceress studied the two, a finger on her cheek and head cocked to the side.

"Oh, it's too hard to decide…you're both so…desirable." Facing the crowd again, she then called out, "both it is!" The other cultists cheered, as the Sorceress pulled out a pair of ornate daggers, with round, smooth pommels and a design featuring the Mark of Slaanesh pressed into the blades.

* * *

The search party wasn't having much luck so far. Despite the fact that the Sorority had stopped only about two miles from the commune, and it hadn't been snowing yet, Knives and Executioner were nowhere to be found. The tracks from earlier were still mostly there, so the two getting lost wasn't very probable.  
"I'm thinking that place has them." Said Skadi.  
"You're starting to sound right." Massacre replied, "Everyone make sure your weapons are good and guns are loaded. Things might get bloody."

The commune came back into view after a good twenty minutes of walking, the smoke of a large fire climbing lazily into the clear night sky.  
"Let's hope we're not too late." The Mistress stated, then non-verbally told the others to sprint up to the gates.

Loud chanting and shouting were audible from within the commune, making the group of Sisters draw their weapons and cock their pistols.  
"Carnage, you open the gates." Massacre tersely ordered, the black-maned High Priestess grinning devilishly as she stepped forward, saying,  
"Let's show these fucks what happens when they mess with Daughters of Khorne."

Breaking the plank holding the gates shut from the inside with a point-blank shot from her bolt pistol, Carnage then kicked the doors open, the Sisters all running in with a battle-cry.

Except none of the cultists gave resistance, instead staring at them with a wide range of expressions. The group of Khornates all stopped, growing confused, yet kept their guns trained on the cultists. The Sorceress, who was using the daggers to slowly cut Knives' and Executioner's shirts open with the tips of the blades piercing their skin, muttered a curse under her breath as she turned to face the invaders.

"Let them go or we kill every last one of you, even the little ones." Massacre snarled, her storm bolter trained on the Sorceress.  
"Just as I was getting started?" the Slaaneshi Psyker exasperatedly countered, "You Khornates are fucking rude."  
"And you Slaaneshi are a bunch of slut-dog vermin." Carnage threw in an insult.  
"Slut-dog? That sounds familiar. Where have I heard that before…" the Sorceress' tone changed, trying to remember for a moment, then smiled. "Oh yeah, now I remember! I know you! Carnage and Massacre! How you two been? Bumped fur yet?" the Sorceress laughed at the thought, the other cultists laughing at the obscene language.

"The fuck is she talking about, Mistress?" Bonesaw muttered to a heavily-blushing (and angered) Massacre, only for the Sorceress to have heard the brunette, still giggling.  
"You mean you haven't told them yet? Man, I thought you all would be having group sex by now. Which is awesome, by the way, but that's not the point. Anyway, a couple of weeks ago, Massacre and Carnage had tailed one of my scouts in town to one of our hideouts. We let them in, and I convinced Miss Raven-Hair here that the reason she and Commissar Girl fight is cuz they secretly wanna fuck. Then I got them to make out! Not only that, I made these two cuties…" she pointed at Knives and Executioner, "do it too earlier!"  
The whole Slaaneshi cult began laughing harder, some already getting tears in their eyes.

The search party only stood there, Massacre and Carnage still angrily flushed, the rest bewildered and weirded out by the story.  
"That really true, Mistress?" Lacerator quietly asked, only for Massacre to harshly answer  
"Shut up, Lacerator."  
As the cult's laughter died down after a minute or so, the Sorceress then declared,  
"Alright, we've all had a good laugh. Now kill 'em."

Suddenly, the oldest members of the cult, with the youngest wisely backing away, drew various weapons from hidden sheaths and holsters, and charged the small group of Sisters, who barely managed to react.

As they fought, the Sorceress turned back to a still-drugged Knives and Executioner, licking her lips as she said, "I haven't forgotten you two, but too bad there won't be as many audience members." Redrawing the daggers, the witch resumed her previous actions, cutting their shirts open with the blades lightly cutting into their sternums. The drug also had the effect of heightening pain, making the two captive Sisters scream loudly in agony.

It was like music to the Sorceress's ears.

Bonesaw killed one of the cultists by blocking a downward attack with her chainsword, seconds afterward swinging her namesake bone saw into the neck of her opponent, causing blood to rapidly seep from the wound. Frostbite, meanwhile, sent Tyr's Fist into the gut of a cultist, followed by ramming Garmr's Fang upwards into the chin of the enemy girl, whose eyes rolled into her head as the blade killed her. Beside Frostbite, Skadi stopped a chainsword swipe with her own, holding the spine as the other young woman pushed, both weapons screaming until the redhead managed to grab the other's wrist, prying the arms apart and head-butting her foe, finishing the cultist off with a point-blank bolt pistol shot.

The Mistress and High Priestess, totally consumed with rage at their secret shame being casually exposed, made a bee-line for the Sorceress, chopping or shooting at anyone trying to stop them, not caring if any of their attackers were killed.

The Dark Prince's Psyker sensed them coming, rolling her eyes with an angry groan before halting her dissection of Knives and Executioner, her daggers were going deeper into their flesh as she reached their stomachs. Dropping the blades, the Sorceress turned to face Massacre and Carnage as the distance closed, throwing up her hands as she concentrated her magic, simultaneously yelling,  
"STOP!"

Instantly, Massacre and Carnage froze in their tracks, still burning with white-hot fury.  
"FUCKING COWARD, USING MAGIC TO SAVE YOUR WORTHLESS HIDE!" the dirty blonde snarled, the black-maned girl likewise adding,  
"I'M GONNA UPHOLD THAT PROMISE I MADE IN THAT WAREHOUSE, YOU MOTHERFUCKING WHORE!"  
"Flattery won't get you very far, you two." the witch dryly replied, gesturing to make the pair reach for their pistols.

As much as they tried to fight back, no matter how hard they mentally screamed to make their arms stop, Massacre and Carnage could do nothing as the Sorceress forced them to level their guns to their temples, taking her sweet time to hear her victims roar threats of horrific violence and demands to stop and fight fairly.  
"Y'know," she said as the barrels pressed themselves against the two Sisters' temples, "You two really would make a cute couple. Maybe Slaanesh will do something about that once you're sent to the Palace."  
By this point, Massacre and Carnage had run out of words, instead staring at the Sorceress with murderous intent.  
"Oh well. Say goodbye, girls."

Just before she made them pull the triggers, the Slaaneshi suddenly felt an incredible force run through her back and exit her stomach, making her cry out in pain as she looked down to see a bloody, gore-covered power fist. Seconds later, a pair of knives were slammed into her chest from behind, right below her collarbone.

The weapons withdrew, allowing the Sorceress to fall over, dying as she hit the ground. Standing there were Knives and Executioner, still sluggish from the drug, but freed and their armaments returned by the other Sisters.  
"Thanks for that." Massacre said, lowering the arm holding her storm bolter, "And good work, the rest of you."  
The formerly-captive Sisters didn't verbally respond, and seemed to be on the verge of passing out from heavy bleeding, causing Frostbite and Skadi to immediately catch and support them.  
"We'd better get going, Mistress. These two really need medical attention." Bonesaw pointed out, looking over them.  
"You're right, let's go."

Just before they went through the gates, Lacerator remembered something, making her yell out "Wait a minute!"  
"What, Lacerator?" Carnage fumed, disappointed at not being able to mutilate the Sorceress herself.

"What about them?" Lacerator replied, pointing at the young cultists, who stood dazed and confused.

* * *

**I wanted to bring back the Sorceress of Slaanesh mentioned in Chapter Six, and actually built the idea of the commune and Knives/Executioner being captured around that.**

**Speaking of Knives/Executioner, if anyone ever wants to start shipping them or Massacre/Carnage, my advice is this: Fistblades is the cute, fluffy couple. MassaCarnage is the hot, sexy couple.**

**I think that's about it. A second apology to the people who wanted their Sisters to appear in this chapter. Trust me, you'll be in here!**


	17. Chapter Sixteen: Hunters and Gatherers

**Another new chapter!**

**Man, I wrote this one rather fast, if I say so myself.**

**So as the summary said, I got tired of waiting for the artists I'd previously contacted to respond, so instead I just posted old photos of the main ten's models (plus Bonesaw, Frostbite, and Skadi) on the tumblr and wrote out the specific things of each to the best of my ability. If you wanna draw the Sisters, go for it. Just ask me either through here or on tumblr if you have any trouble.**

**That's about it.**

* * *

_Chapter Sixteen: Hunters and Gatherers_

Inquisitor Backett looked back at the column of Chimeras from the hatch of his Salamander. He was now in command of the Liberation PDF regiment, Colonel Loch issuing his orders to the troops, taking advantage of their motor pool to put down these heretics once and for all. Even at half strength, the other half of the regiment had stayed in Fusmouth to look for the Slaaneshi cult, Graic was sure he had an edge over his targets.

_I almost feel bad for them,_ the Witch Hunter thought sarcastically, stepping down into the hull of his vehicle, inhabited by the Colonel and Zero-Six Nineteen. Chained to one of the supports was Artemis, her head hung low and still under the effects of Dreamer's Illness. Khartur and Tormen had the shirts under their armor pulled up over their noses, due to sitting so close to the foul-smelling Sister.

"So Artemis," Backett said, the heretic girl slowly raising her head in acknowledgement, "what exactly is the name of your sisterhood? I'm curious to know."  
"We're the Sorority of Violence."  
"Ah, fitting, seeing how you treated Fusmouth's criminal element a few days ago."  
"Uh-huh."  
"And you're all-female?"  
"Yup. Been that way since the beginnin'."  
"Interesting. How many of you are there?"  
"Last I remember we got round a thousand able to fight. And for every one you dogs kill they'll kill five of you. I can guarantee you that, Corpse-Slave."  
"Whatever. Now they are indeed going west, right?"  
"You calling me a liar?"  
"I am, actually. Something tells me the rest of your little pack of crazies went some way different. Mind telling me where they really went so we don't have to waste all of this promethium and you'll be spared the porta-rack?"

Artemis honestly didn't know where the rest of the Sorority went, since the decision to travel north had been made _after_ they had escaped Fusmouth, which Artemis, of course, failed to do. What she did know was that the woods outside the city was where the Sisters were to regroup, and odds are they had already left. Hopefully enough snow had fallen the night before to cover their tracks.

* * *

_The night before…_

"Where are we?" said one of the young girls, not long after the Sorceress and Slaaneshi cultists had met their bloody ends at the hands of the Sorority's search party.  
"What is this place?" another one asked nobody, looking around.  
"Who're you people?" a third directed at the group of Sisters, who had turned to face them after Lacerator brought them up, then asked, "and what happened?"  
"Um…we really can't explain right now, so..." Massacre awkwardly replied, pausing to try and elaborate further, only for Bonesaw to say,  
"Mistress, we need to go and these two really need attention. Wrap it up." The cult surgeon was referring to a still-delirious Knives and Executioner, being held up by Frostbite and Skadi.  
"Ok, I guess what I can say is, these people took you away, mistreated you, and we came and rescued you. Now how many of you have a home to go to?"

Out of twenty young girls, half of them raised a hand or said, "I do," the rest being either runaways, homeless, orphans, or unwanted children.  
"Alright, and the rest of you don't." looking over them and thinking, the Mistress figured some of them could join the Sorority, after all, the Sisterhood started under similar circumstances, and they would occasionally pick up Imperial apostates and liberated slaves from rival cults from time to time, so why would these girls be any different?  
"Would any of you like to come with us?" Massacre asked in her warmest tone, getting eight yesses.  
"Mistress, these young'uns were worshipping the Arch-Enemy a few minutes ago! Don't you remember?!" Carnage harshly whispered, a Sister named Atrocity likewise glaring at the dirty blonde for her incredulity.  
"They don't seem to remember. I think Khorne will allow this since they were doing it while hypnotized."

Turning to the eight girls, just to be sure, Massacre questioned them with,  
"Do any of you remember what happened?"  
"I don't remember anything since I got here." Said the same girl who had asked Knives and Executioner to play Truth or Dare earlier that afternoon.  
"Me either." The remaining seven answered similarly, sealing the deal to them becoming New Breed.  
"Alright, you can come." The Mistress stated, then turned to the twelve not joining them, "As for the rest of you, town's that way, and if you leave tomorrow at sunrise you'll be back by sunset."  
"Okay, um…thanks for rescuing us." Replied the oldest of the dozen, a dark-haired girl around thirteen.  
"Don't mention it. Stay safe."

* * *

_The next morning, Backett's column…_

Backett had a handcuffed Artemis look out the hatch of the Salamander with him to confirm whether or not they had come to the right patch of woods. Looking around, especially at the forest floor, the brunette prisoner emitted a silent sigh of relief to find that it had indeed snowed sometime earlier, hopefully erasing any footprints her Sisters left behind.  
"What was that?" Graic asked her, thinking she had whispered to herself.  
"Nothing, just cold is all."  
"If you say so. Now this is the woods you planned on regrouping in, right?"  
"Looks like it."  
"Alright." The Inquisitor then yelled for the Chimeras to stop, the transports doing so almost in perfect synchronicity.  
"What're you doing?"  
"I'm taking a few of them in there with me. You're gonna get out and try to get the rest of your cult to show themselves."  
Knowing exactly what that meant, Artemis roared, "YOU FUCKING-"

But the click of Eurydice's Revenge cut her off, looking down to see it aimed at her.  
"Your usefulness is coming to an end, you little bitch. I won't hesitate to end it here now unless you cooperate. And I know you don't wanna die shot like a dog." Backett snarled, his voice low and filled with malice. A frustrated growl emanated from the brunette heretic's throat, having no choice but to follow his commands. Sometimes being a Khornate sucked.

"Good girl." Graic smiled cruelly, holstering his bolt pistol, then ordered several Chimeras into the woods with him.

The group of vehicles saw a clearing up ahead after several minutes of trekking, the Witch Hunter calling for a halt. He proceed to shove Artemis out of the Salamander through its entryway, staying outside to watch her better.

_What if they really did stay behind? We'll be slaughtered!_ Artemis thought, truly terrified for the second time since the Battle of Phlegethon. Heart thundering, she walked out into the clearing, stopping for a moment to briefly look up at the grey winter sky one last time. With a deep breath, she called out,  
"Guys? It's me, Artemis. I made it out of town."

Nobody responded, easing her anxiety slightly. She tried again, this time with a simple "hello?"

More silence. A second "hello-oh?"

"Hello?"

_Shit._

Coming out of the woods not far where Artemis stood were twelve young girls, none much older than thirteen.  
"Who're you?" the heretic asked first, knowing immediately they were not Sisters, since they all lacked the yellowy-gold eyes the Sorority was infamous for.

Unfortunately, the girls seemed to know who she was.  
"Oh, are you one of the group who rescued us from that walled place up north? I think they're still up there." Answered the eldest, who had taken lead of the little convoy, pointing in the direction she had spoken of.

"Hold your fire." Graic barked to the Chimeras, his arm raised to accentuate his point. Whoever that group that came out of the woods was, the one in front appeared to point northwards. If they had, shooting now could cost him valuable information, and Backett couldn't afford to let that go to waste.

Leaving his men in confusion, the Inquisitor ran up to the clearing, immediately questioning what was in fact a group of young girls, lacking the eye color and blood-patterned hair Artemis had, with,  
"What'd you say?"  
"The ladies who freed us last night are up that way. Why?" The thirteen-year-old girl reaffirmed.

Looking north to see a spectacular mountain range, Graic immediately deduced his prey was fleeing into them. Returning his gaze to the girls, he grinned as he said to them,  
"You've done a great service to the Imperium, young lady. I'll have my men give you a ride home."

_We're fucked._

* * *

**I thought I'd have the Sorority do something genuinely nice for a change, instead of them being the bloodthirsty marauders they usually are. But, as the old saying goes, no good deed goes unpunished, which is why the Inquisitor now knows their location.**

**And in case anyone's wondering, the Sorority's eye color is possible through surgery, and it's received eight days after birth, due to eight being Khorne's sacred number. Those who weren't born into the Sorority typically receive it right away, or as quickly as time allows.**

**Till next chapter, amigos.**

**The Sister named Atrocity was created and submitted by PoppyPounder. Thanks for taking up the initiative!**


	18. Chapter Seventeen: The Heat gets Hotter

**I'm... back.**

**I'M BACK!**

**I'MBACKI'MBACKI'MBACKI'MBACKI'MBACKI'MBACKI'MBACK! *swarm of jellyfish flies through legs***

**IT'S... BEEN... SO... LONG! FINALLY AFTER THREE MONTHS I'VE UPDATED MY FANFICTION MAGNUM OPUS!  
**

**I must admit though, I really did need that break. I just couldn't come up with anything for the longest time. Plus classes have started up again, and I had to get used to the change in schedule. But it's great to be writing again. I can't tell you how much I've missed documenting the blood-soaked exploits of Khorne's Daughters. Speaking of whom, this chapter introduces some new ones, two of which were supposed to appear earlier on, but they never really said anything, presumably they were busy with other stuff.**

**Well, I've said enough. Welcome back, readers, and enjoy the new chapter.**

* * *

_Chapter Seventeen: The Heat gets Hotter_

After three days of hard marching since the retrieval of Knives and Executioner, along with the addition of eight New Breed, the Sorority of Violence had finally reached the mountains north of Fusmouth. The range was locally known as "The Cold Talons," in reference to the average temperature in the region, the pointed nature of the taller peaks, and the significant population of raptor birds, including the Mourning Eagle, a jet-black creature with a distinctive screech similar to a cry of anguish.

The Sisterhood stopped for a moment to rest, many gazing awestruck at the formations looming over them.  
"Well ladies, we made it this far." Said Mistress Massacre, before turning to face the others, "Now we just gotta find some place in there that can hide us."  
"Want some of us to scout ahead, Mistress?" a Sister named Ying Ang spoke up.  
"That's exactly what I was thinking. Since you brought it up first, I want you to take some girls and check out that mountain." Massacre pointed to one that stood a mile or so to the Sorority's right, "Carnage, you take the one in front of us. And Frostbite, you go left. Be back by sunset."

* * *

Since Inquisitor Backett realized the Sorority was heading into the Cold Talons, he had adapted to the new circumstance, namely by requesting an artillery battery. Shelling the mountains made it easier to eliminate larger swathes of his current hunt, and, depending where shots landed, make it easier for the Chimeras to venture into them and mop up the survivors. A simplistic, yet effective plan.

"Dishonorable mongrel." Artemis muttered in a raspy growl as several Basilisks were airdropped to the armored column, it too facing the mountains.  
"All's fair in love and war, y'know." Graic sarcastically smiled, studying the land before him through a pair of binoculars.  
"A true warrior fights his prey face to face, where they can truly determine the better between them."  
"Yeah, well, a warrior is supposed to adapt to his surroundings. So that's what I'm doing."  
"Sir, can we please shut this little heretic up?" Colonel Loch finally said, growing weary of Artemis's smart-assed talking and Backett's own snarky responses.  
"Can we kill her yet, either? Her stench is unbearable." Private Yarden added, the rest of Zero-Six-Nineteen agreeing.

At that, the Inquisitor paused. He didn't have a problem with killing Artemis at all, but there may have been some helpful information left in her. Then again, of course, he had the Sorority cornered now, and the men were undoubtedly wanting some excitement. So really, it make no difference if she lived another day as his prisoner or not.

Thinking it over, Graic answered after several moments, saying,  
"I do believe your usefulness has come to an end now, Artemis. Tonight you shall be executed for the crime of heresy. However, I will uphold my promise to you of a dignified death. I will address the men of this later this evening."

Making direct eye contact with her, Backett saw in her yellowy-gold eyes a sullen acceptance, maybe even a small amount of relief for potentially being administered the antidote for Dreamer's Illness.  
"Do your worst, Corpse-Slave. I do not fear death." Artemis replied, her voice low and threatening.

* * *

Out of all the skills Sisters in the Sorority of Violence had been taught since childhood, mountain climbing was not one of them. The particular one Ying Ang and her group of scouts were attempting to ascend had multiple ravines and sheer faces, and the mountain had few cliff sides that could be walked across or shimmied along.  
"This. Sucks." A pale, thin blonde called Miketh grumbled, already downing almost half of a canteen.  
"Shut up, ya whiner." Cattiveria, a redhead, snapped back.  
"You hate this as much as I do."  
"Yeah, but I'm not the one complaining."  
"Me either." The other redhead, Atrocity, interjected.  
"That's because the two of you let everyone else walk all over you." Miketh sneered.  
"No I don't, Miketh. I just don't give a fuck." Atrocity replied, right before Cattiveria threatened the blonde,  
"Shut up or you'll be picking your teeth outta my fist."  
"I'd love to see you try."

"ALL OF YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Ying Ang roared, turning around after climbing up a crop of rocks, "Found a place to look around, come up here."  
Their argument suddenly halted, the three other Sisters made their own way up, helping each other if needed.

A small lip of cliff stuck out facing the lands the Sorority had already covered, offering a wide range of sight.  
"Nice view." Atrocity stated simply, looking out and around.  
"Anyone got some long-lookers?" Cattiveria asked the other three collectively.  
"I do." Ying Ang answered, pulling out a pair of binoculars she had stolen from Fusmouth. They were nowhere near as advanced as those found in the PDF or Imperial Guard, but they did their job.

Scanning the horizon, she only saw two large fields cut by a patch of woods, which continued the division back into the main forest. In the field to their right, the rest of the Sisterhood appeared as a blob of tiny stick figures, all of them sitting or standing around. To the direct right were the other two mountains Carnage and Frostbite took their scouts to, and the High Priestess's group could be seen walking up a snowy slope.  
"There's Carnage." Miketh flatly pointed out, since their movement was noticeable in the stillness of the Cold Talons.

Swinging to their left, Ying Ang slowly moved her head downward, from the distant woods to the field emerging from it.

"Wait, what's that?"

Removing her eyes from the binoculars, Ying Ang asked Atrocity what she was referring to.  
"Down there on the right."

Looking back through them, the scouts' leader came across a collection of grayish blocks, with tiny figures moving around them. Moving slightly further down, some of the blocks had a stick coming out from the top, pointing at the mountains.  
"What is it?" Miketh murmured, all four Sisters leaning in for a closer look.

Suddenly, it hit Ying Ang as to what they were looking at.

"They found us."

* * *

Down below, at the exact same location, Backett had another round of surveying back up, hoping to see something resembling the Sorority.

So far, nothing. Just snow, rock, and the occasional bird. Sweeping higher, Graic passed over the mountain in front of the regiment, when, suddenly, he jilted out from his arc and quickly resettled his binoculars' view more towards the left.

A glint.

It winked at him in the pale afternoon sun, the Inquisitor looking back at it with his naked eyes.

A devious grin spread across his bearded face, calling over the Colonel.  
"You see what I see?" handing the long-lookers over to the older man and pointing at the location of interest.  
"Huh. This is the second time they've made themselves obvious, haven't they?" Loch gruffly referred to the Battle of Phlegethon five days earlier after having his peek.  
"Yup. Wanna give 'em a little hello?"

* * *

"Whaddya mean they found us?!" Cattiveria yelped in panic, ripping Ying Ang's binoculars from the latter's grasp.  
"Oh this is bad." Miketh fidgeted, clutching her bloodied blonde locks and sliding her hands back down to her sides.  
"Calm down, we just need to inform the rest and we'll figure it out from there. Mistress Massacre didn't become Mistress just because she got 800 kills." Atrocity tried levelling the situation, although she herself was quite worried.  
"Atrocity's right." Said Ying Ang, after snatching her binoculars back from Cattiveria, "We just need to get out shit together and tell the Mistress. Besides, it's not like they can see us-"

A deafening explosion tore through her sentence as a shell struck the mountain close to the peak, sending bits of rock flying everywhere. Backett fired an intimidation shot, not intending to kill whomever gave away their position with the glint, instead letting the Sorority know he was not playing nice. It clearly worked, for Ying Ang, Atrocity, Cattiveria, and Miketh hightailed it off the mountain, practically screaming in terror.

Graic himself, meanwhile, had a short laugh and said to the Basilisk's crew, "That was perfect, boys. If only we could've seen their faces. Course, we'll be seeing what's left of them when we start really shelling this place after we execute the prisoner."  
"How do you plan on doing that, Inquisitor?" asked one of the gunners.

"You'll all find out soon enough. It'll be fun."

* * *

**The four Sisters were created by people on Tumblr. (Atrocity, PoppyPounder's character, may be familiar to you, she was briefly mentioned in the last chapter.)**

**Ying Ang: mpdrawing  
Cattiveria (Italian for "malice"): viennaorlando*  
Miketh (Enochian for "torment"): missrobbins98***

***Cattiveria and Miketh are currently placeholder names. They may change soon if their creators wish to do so.**

**And get your mind out of the gutter. Artemis's execution won't be like that. He said she'd die a _dignified_ death. In fact, it'll be the focus of the next chapter.**

**So until that's written, I want to say again how happy I am to update again and thank you all for your patience. **


	19. Chapter Eighteen: Go Down Swinging

**Alright, new chapter!**

**Ok, this was going to be posted last week, but 1. I had to refresh my laptop and put Word back on it, and 2. I got stuck again. Luckily I already have ideas for Chapter Nineteen brewing, so I'll get working on that when I have free time (semester's winding down. Classes are getting more involved)**

**So without further ado, lay witness to the death of Artemis.**

* * *

_Chapter Eighteen: Go Down Swinging_

Twilight had descended on the Cold Talons like it always had some hours after Inquisitor Backett's "hello" to the Sorority of Violence. Artemis noticed the coincidence in how her own twilight and death were close at hand. _How fitting_, she thought, standing handcuffed and still intoxicated with Dreamer's Illness in the middle of a circle made out of the PDF's Chimeras, their occupants standing or sitting on top of them. Neither she nor the men knew what the former's execution was to entail, the Witch Hunter keeping it a surprise.

Graic hopped down into the ring from his Salamander forming the top facing the woods to the right, yelling for the soldiers' attention. Once they were quieted, Backett began,  
"Alright, now, this young woman," he pointed to Artemis, "is guilty for the crime of heresy against the Imperium. And as such, the punishment is death."  
Looking over at the Sister, he was met only with a cold stare.  
"However, when I had first interrogated her, I had made her a promise of a dignified execution. Because we now have the location of her fellow heretics, I intend to keep my word."

The Inquisitor looked across the men, before he announced,  
"Artemis," looking back at her, addressing the brunette directly, "Your execution will be through beating by this Regiment." Everyone raised eyebrows at that. It was certainly unique, but it got even stranger as he continued, now speaking to the soldiers,  
"The condemned is allowed to fight back. All those wishing to participate must remove their armor and helmets."

Several men immediately shucked their body armor, and any who had already not gone bareheaded did so, getting down into the ring in hopes of bloodying their knuckles. Others began making bets on how long Artemis would last, or how many she'd knock out before dropping herself.  
"There is one rule," Graic spoke again, "Any who attempt to rape or otherwise sexually violate the prisoner will immediately be shot. Is that understood?"  
"Yes sir." Was shouted back more out of fear than affirmation, as a few more men joined those standing opposite of Artemis.

Walking back over to the Sister, the Inquisitor lifted her head and pulled out a syringe, containing the antidote for Dreamer's Illness. Injecting it, he muttered,  
"You are not to begin until I say so."  
"Fine." Was all Artemis replied with, feeling energy roiling back into her body again as the antidote took effect.

Once her handcuffs were removed, she took a moment to rub her wrists, then cracked various joints in her back, neck, and finally her knuckles, at that point ready for carnage.

Climbing back onto the treads of his Salamander, Backett pulled out a lho stick and lit up, taking a drag and allowing the smoke to drift from his mouth as he calmly barked out,

"Have at it."

Surprisingly, although the PDF fighters charged first, Artemis got the first hit, ducking a punch and then hammer-punching upwards into her opponent's chin, causing him to straighten. She then rammed her joined fists into his stomach, doubling him over and finally swung across his face, making him spin as he fell.

Right at that moment, the Sister took her own first hit when another brawler landed a kidney shot, Artemis's gasp of pain cut short as the guy clutched her throat and threw her to the ground. Before she could get up, he was on top of her, successfully landing several blows to her face when she managed to roll them both over and return the favor.

A third soldier yanked Artemis off of his comrade and put her in a chokehold, allowing a fourth to give her another slug to the face.

But the brunette Khornate was just warming up, kicking the guy with both feet and elbowing her way out of the chokehold, turning around to make a grab of her own and shoot her knee up into the choke-holder's nose.

Needless to say, the soldiers watching were enjoying the spectacle, some joining in on the action as others cheered on, some even meant for Artemis whenever she landed an impressive attack or made a reversal.

Allowing the grabber to crumble to the ground howling in pain, Artemis backhanded another trooper coming at her, knocking him out of the way only for the next to punch her in the gut, causing bloodied spit to shoot from her mouth and bend her over. Her current opponent used the opportunity to drop his elbow onto the back of her head, successfully making the Sister hit the ground.

Breathing heavily and thoroughly dazed, Artemis could hear the soldiers talk.  
"Aw man, don't tell me you killed her already! I didn't even get close!" Whined one.  
"She only lasted that long? Shit, there goes my money." Another complained.  
"Come on! Get up you bitch! I don't intend to lose this bet!" A third yelled from one of the Chimeras.

The fourth voice was much closer, right next to her in fact, as none other than Backett asked, drawing Eurydice's Revenge,  
"I assume you've had enough. Want me to put you out of your misery yet?"

"No." was all Artemis breathily said, getting back up on unsteady arms and legs.  
"Okay then. Guess you really want that dignified death." was all Graic said back, returning to his spot.

"Oh, so she wants to keep going?" A soldier across from her taunted, bearing a few marks on his face.  
"C'mon, girl. I'll show you a real beating!" the original complainer shouted, eager to get his wish.

"Do your best, asshole." The Daughter of Khorne replied, bringing her fists up.

With that, the fighter charged at her furiously, though Artemis had a plan. As the distance closed, she quickly sidestepped around him and shoved, turning his momentum against him, causing the soldier to smash against the side of a Chimera, knocking him out cold.

But that was all for naught when the Sister was dead-legged from behind, her left foot giving out and the attacker sending her back down on the ground hard, white flashing across Artemis's vision for a split second when her head made impact. The guy who put her there backhanded with his left, using the momentum to strike her twice more with both fists linked, the first going right and the second downwards.

Despite having one eye swollen shut, the other getting blood in it from a forehead gash, a broken nose, and a fractured jaw, not to mention other small cuts and bruises across her bloodied face, Artemis still had some fight in her, successfully landing a palm into her beater's ear, quickly getting out from under him and throwing his head into the snow, doing it a second time for good measure.

Getting up and turning around, the Daughter of Khorne tackled a fighter of her own after he had tried to throw a punch, dealing three hard enough blows to his face in quick succession to give Artemis another knockout.

Only to be kicked in her right side while still on top of the unconscious soldier, feeling the ribs crack where the toe of the kicker's boot had struck her. Before Artemis could fall over, the man picked her up into a grapple, slugged the Sister in the stomach once, then yelled "now!" as he let go, his friend running up to Artemis and dropkicking her.

_This is it. Can't take much more_, the brunette's exhausted mind thought once she landed, the effects of her beating finally catching up with her body. Gasping for breath, her chest heaving, Artemis felt a strange calm wash over her like a hot shower. She should have been in agony considering her injuries, but they were dulled by this comfortable numbness.

Artemis had seen death and killed people before, but it was nothing like this. Nothing at all. The deaths she had witnessed and inflicted were always fast. Of course, the methods were with chain-weapons and pistols as opposed to fists and feet, but even then, despite her scars, the Sister had never been this close to dying.

Now she finally was. And it wasn't that bad.

A distant voice could be heard saying, "I think she's had enough. Who should get to finish her off?"

_It doesn't matter. _Artemis thought, _just do it._

Of course, Inquisitor Backett had to holler for order over the arguing soldiers, until one suggested,  
"Why not you, Inquisitor? She _is_ your prisoner after all."

Oddly enough, the rest seemed to agree, and began encouraging him to get down there and end it.

With a sigh, Graic gave in to their demands, hopping down off of his Salamander and strolling over to where his prisoner lay dying.

"They want me to do it." He stated blankly to Artemis, not out of any morality but simply because.

"Go ahead. Khorne and the Matriarch are calling for me." The Sister weakly replied, a tiny smile on her destroyed face, knowing she'd meet them both and be reunited with her mother.

With a deep breath and a quick think-trough, the Inquisitor crouched over her, struck once, violently rolled her body over, and stomped down hard where her head met her neck.

_Elysium._

* * *

**And Artemis died. Just like that.**

**Hey, at least she went out in a way she wanted. Oh, and some of those moves described were taken from Rockstar's old video game adaptation of the even older movie _The Warriors_, if you're familiar with it. **

**Whenever I finish a Flashback, _Blood-Soaked Memories_ will be published, and they won't be published in any particular order. I also plan on writing about the Founding of the Sorority, mostly because I've got a narrative figured out for that. **

**Till next chapter, friends.**


	20. Chapter Nineteen: Red Ops

**Another new chapter, guys!**

**Now for this one, I really didn't have issues with planning it out, so much as I did finding time to write it (I literally finished not too long ago), since I've been busy with other stuff, namely classes. That, and I had another issue with my laptop not booting up (I had to do a restore, which thankfully kept everything).**

**This chapter's rather short, but it'll be my first attempt to add some feels to this story. Tell me how I did in a review.**

**Ready? Then read on.**

* * *

_Chapter Nineteen: Red Ops_

The oldest Sisters in the Sorority of Violence were easily the most respected demographic amongst them. They had gone through the initiatory rites, accumulated years of experience in battle, and passed on those skills to their own daughters. As such, they were often called "Old Dogs," "Archangels," "Cut Teeth," and "Greymanes."

But the old Sisters had another, truer nickname.

Death Seekers.

After all, they had done what was necessary for the upkeep of the Sorority, and now just needed an opportunity to die fighting.

* * *

Ying Ang, Atrocity, Miketh, and Cattiveria had returned from their mountain climb to warn Mistress Massacre and the rest of the Sorority of Inquisitor Backett's presence, roughly around the same time he allowed Artemis to fight her last.  
"What'd you find?" the dirty blonde Chief Sister inquired.  
Breathlessly and worriedly, Ying Ang began with, "Mistress, our pursuers have caught up with us. They're through the woods over there."  
"_What?_" Massacre's eyes widened in disbelief.  
"Yeah, and they ain't fuckin' around. Fired a shell at us." Miketh added.  
"What're we gonna do? We can't outrun that!" continued Cattiveria.

"Yes you can." A voice behind them said.

Turning to face the speaker, Massacre and the scouts looked at a Death Seeker named Boudicca.  
"Some of us old girls can be a distraction. Buy you a little time to cross those mountains."  
With a sigh of contempt, the Mistress replied, "If this is how you wanna go out, it's fine with me."  
"Don't give me that, we're dead weight anyway. Besides, what better way to die knowing the young'uns and pups are gonna be safe?" The Greymane shot back.  
"Can't argue with that logic." Atrocity spoke after largely being silent.  
"Alright, get all the Archangels who're ready to meet Khorne and Bloodmane." Massacre told Boudicca, still heavy-hearted about this plan. After all, she often consulted the eldest Sisters for wisdom, and to lose some of that knowledge could spell the difference between life and death.  
"Trust me, a lot of us are."

* * *

Mauler scanned the crowd of Sisters for her daughter, intending to have a few parting words with her before going out on her last mission. It didn't take long, since she heard a snarky voice say,  
"That's seriously not an impressive kill. If anything, it's mediocre."  
Its source was just to the right, arguing with a skinny, short-haired blonde named Tormentor. And predictably, they were about to get physical in their fight.  
"BLOODMAW!" Mauler yelled, catching the two girls' attention.  
With an angry sigh, Bloodmaw answered, "Yeah, mom?"  
"Come here. I need to talk to you for a minute."  
Rolling her eyes, the brunette misanthrope mumbled "still a mediocre kill" to Tormentor as she walked over to her mother.  
"What's up?" she asked.  
"Well, the people who've been chasing us caught up, and they're gonna shell the mountains. Some of us Old Dogs will buy the rest of you time to cross through 'em."

It took a moment for Bloodmaw to comprehend what Mauler had said, realizing this would be their last time together. All she could say was, "Oh, really?"  
"Yup." Mauler flatly responded, "So anything you wanna say before I go? Make it count."  
"Umm… Love you? ...Thanks for being a good mom? … Meet you in the Fortress of Khorne?" Bloodmaw was never really one to give out compliments, even to her own mother, but Mauler herself was known for bluntness and sarcasm, passing that on to her progeny.  
"That'll do." The old Sister smirked, then pulled the younger into a quick hug.  
"I'm gonna miss you." Bloodmaw quietly muttered in their embrace.  
"You said so yourself you'll meet me in the Fortress. Don't do the waterworks now." Mauler playfully replied, even though Bloodmaw was already starting to tear up.

* * *

"Alright men, get everything ready to start the shelling. We got heretics to catch." Inquisitor Backett barked to the PDF troops, still standing over Artemis's body. The soldiers began putting their armor back on, others jumping down from their Chimeras to retrieve anything they had put in the vehicles prior to the execution of the Sister.

Screaming both natural and mechanical suddenly emanated from the westernmost portion of the circle, causing panic amongst the men, who scrambled to get their weapons. Drawing his own, Graic ran over to the source of the noise, climbing the Chimera to see around eighty disheveled, grizzled women, fighting with unrestrained fury.

Before he could process everything, one of the ambushers got on top of the Chimera he was standing on, swinging a chainsword at him. Backett didn't even have time to activate his power sword, but he managed to deflect the attack, also getting a closer look at her.

Blood soaked into her filthy grey hair. Burning yellowy-gold eyes. Filed teeth bared. _Sorority_, as he had learned from what little Artemis told him. The word flew across the Inquisitor's mind, right as he swung Eurydice's Revenge across her face, his blade crackling to life and skewering her through the chest in an eye-blink.

_Last I remember we got around a thousand able to fight._ Artemis's words replayed in his head as the old Sister fell dead. He already knew there were less than a hundred here, and saw they were all as hoary as the one crumpled next to him.

_It's a diversion._

"ALL GUNNERS GET TO YOUR BASILISKS RIGHT NOW!" Graic screamed, "THEY'RE TRYING TO STALL THE BOMBARDMENT! EVERYONE ELSE KILL THESE HERETICS!"

* * *

Meanwhile, the Sorority had already began making its way through the mountains, hoping to at least be out of range by the time the Greymanes sacrificing themselves were dead.

Time around Bloodmaw seemed to crawl. She never really thought about Mauler dying, though she also knew it was inevitable. After all, Mauler was her mentor, and above that, her mother.

_Mom's gone._

_Forever._

Bloodmaw usually kept a mask of cynicism on around the others, only letting it slip when she was certain she was all alone. But right now, she didn't care. All that mattered to her right now was that her mother was dead or dying and she couldn't do anything about it.

Tears freely flowed from Bloodmaw's wolfish eyes, for the first time in front of everyone since childhood.

And for the first time, the Sorority of Violence heard Bloodmaw sing.

She sang a wordless, improvised dirge, her crystal-clear voice cutting through their hearts better than any weapon ever could.

Few could resist the urge to break down and cry as they walked.

* * *

**Sooo... was it feelsy? If it wasn't, that's okay. I'll try extra harder when I finish Executioner's flashback for _Blood-Soaked Memories_.**

**Other than that, the song I imagine Bloodmaw singing (I've always wanted a chapter where she does, since it's referenced to in Chapter One, and show a different side of her) is the one that plays when Gandalf falls off the Bridge of Khazad-Dum in _The Fellowship of the Ring_, and I was kinda hoping I could get a recording of Bloodmaw's model singing it herself, but contact with her is difficult.**

**Oh yeah, and a celebrity cameo right before Bloodmaw and Mauler have their final words. Think of a skinny short-haired blonde whose first name starts with a "T" (hey, to be fair, she can pull off the Sister look).**

**Till next chapter, and say a prayer for tonight's victims in Paris.**


	21. Chapter Twenty: Reversal of Fortune

**Happy New Year, Fanfiction!**

**Okay, yes, it's not New Year's, but this is my first update of 2016. And sorry for the gap. First it was finals, then it was the holidays, and I had stuff to do in the rest of the time, and, as what was originally here said, I was stuck.**

**But the story's back on now, and that's all you really care about, right? Oh yeah, and I finally found someone whom I believe will be entirely on-board with drawing the Sorority.**

**Anyhoo, here's the first chapter of 2016.**

* * *

_Chapter Twenty: Reversal of Fortune_

Despite the setback of eighty Greymanes of the Sorority of Violence ambushing them, Backett's PDF managed to unleash their barrage on the Cold Talons, even as the skirmish still raged yards away. The rest fought well enough to kill every Death Seeker, though the soldiers in turn suffered 20 dead and another 30 wounded.

Graic, as one may surmise, was enraged by the Sisters' chutzpah.  
"I AM GOING TO KILL EACH AND EVERY ONE OF THOSE HERETICAL SLUTS WITH MY BARE HANDS!" The Witch Hunter bellowed in white-hot fury, following that colorful dialogue with,  
"ANYONE NOT IN DANGER OF DYING OR STILL HAVING ALL OF YOUR LIMBS, GET IN YOUR FUCKING CHIMERAS! WE'RE CATCHING THEM RIGHT NOW!"  
"During the shelling, sir? Are you sure?" Colonel Loch tried acting as a voice of reason.  
Taking a deep breath, Backett replied, "They're going to get away at this rate with their distraction, Colonel. It'd better we intercept them now than wait afterwards only to turn up empty."  
"I understand completely sir, just worried about friendly fire."  
"Fight in the real Guard. What you call 'friendly fire,' they call 'collateral damage.'" Leaving the old officer exasperated, the Inquisitor ran back to his Salamander.

* * *

The Sorority of Violence trudged through the mountains avoiding as many open areas as possible, also taking care to find other ways around zones where a round detonating above them could trigger a rockslide or cave in. Any direction they took would be vulnerable to the bombardment, for the explosions told them those Basilisks had a long range. None had yet to be killed, though a fair amount were injured by shrapnel. All in all their attempt to escape was incredibly difficult given the circumstances, many Sisters suggesting to simply find caves or go back into the woods and wait it out.

Mistress Massacre wisely listened, yelling over the din to return to their starting point.  
"GO BACK TO THE WOODS! IT'S IMPOSSIBLE TO MOVE FORWARD! WE'LL WAIT TILL IT'S OVER!"  
She didn't have to tell them twice, for everyone immediately turned around, some literally on their heels, and began running back towards safety.

* * *

Although Backett had cooled down from his tirade a few minutes after he and the PDF had mobilized, his temper was close to reigniting. Standing in the hatch of the Salamander, all he saw were fresh craters and damaged rock walls, many still smoking. No mangled corpses of these Khornate scum. _I swear to the Emperor if they escaped I will-_ Graic's thought was cut short when one of the sergeants in a nearby Chimera yelled over to him,  
"We just passed a little bloodstain, sir. Likely a shrapnel wound."  
"So did we!" another officer announced on the opposite side of the Inquisitor.  
A vox broadcast in the main hold of the Salamander offered a similar statement.

_Sounds like we might have something. Hopefully they've slowed down because of it._

* * *

"Mistress, look." Legion pointed to the Sorority's left.

In the distance, Chimeras could be seen going in the opposite direction of the Sisters, into the mountains.  
"I'm surprised they don't see us. You'd think they would if they just looked to their left." Huntress observed, since 1,850 people was no small group to miss, even with the length the two groups were from each other.  
"They might do that. And if they did, we wouldn't stand a chance against those things." Cutthroat added, making a frown on the non-ruined side of her face.  
"So what're we going to do about it?" asked Bonesaw.

Massacre studied the vehicles' movement, thinking of finding a way to get behind them discreetly, but a whistling of ordnance reminded her that the Basilisks were still shooting. _They're going in even as their guns are still firing?_ She thought to herself. Tracing the arc of the projectiles with a finger, the dirty blonde Mistress placed their origin roughly to the right, hidden by a dense thicket of trees. _We'll finish what the Old Dogs started,_ a proverbial light bulb illuminating in her mind.  
"You got a plan, Mistress?" Executioner inquired seconds after the former reached a solution.  
"I do, Executioner." Turning to address the whole Sorority, Massacre continued, "Alright girls, listen. Some of you get to avenge your mothers by silencing those guns. Leave any wounded and surrenders alive. Have one tell the rest going in the mountains to come back. Once they turn around, the rest of us will get behind them and kill any resistance. We'll use whoever's left to replenish our numbers."  
"I like this plan!" Lacerator eagerly drew her weapons, laughter bubbling in her mouth.  
"Works for me." Said Knives.  
The other Sisters expressed similar approval, with those who lost their mother in the diversion particularly zealous.  
"Now get going, ladies. We need all the time we can get!" Ordered the Mistress.

* * *

Bloodmaw took charge (with some arguing) of the Sisters assigned to take out the gunners, watching them from the woods. A pile of bodies, both Cut Teeth and PDF troopers alike, was being stacked by the most able-bodied of the wounded from the fight that created those corpses. The artillerymen were still manning their cannon, and actually slowing down with the depletion of fresh shells.  
"Looks like we're just gonna have to rush 'em. No sneaky options." The brunette announced to her comrades, undoing the safety of her bolt pistol, then drawing and revving her chainsword.

* * *

Private Klighton Rey of the St. Fu PDF Liberation Regiment was having a bad week. First it was trying to catch these heretics that managed to hide in his hometown of Fusmouth, playing cat and mouse with them for another few days, and now getting attacked by them and almost getting killed. He was praying to the Emperor that the battery boys had pounded the enemy to bloody dust and this whole affair would be over. For once, he genuinely wanted to just go on uneventful patrols and through inspections every month. Even though this was his first real combat-like action, Rey found it wasn't at all like what he'd heard across the galaxy in places like Armageddon or Cadia. No glorious charges against legions of enemies. No desperate last stands. Not even the Angels of Death paying them a visit. Just getting in and out of a Chimera every few hours and cleaning his lasgun, not counting the ambush which didn't even last that long.

Glancing over from his sickening job of stacking dead bodies for a moment, he saw what appeared to be the fight replaying itself, as eighty or so girls came charging at him.

Klighton didn't even flinch this time, merely sighing with,  
"Oh for fuck's sake."

* * *

The shelling had ended a few minutes ago, and the Chimera formation still hadn't seen a single body. Just bloodstains. Backett was about to explode again until a voice crackled out of the Salamander's vox,  
"Inquisitor?"  
"Yes?"  
"We request your return." The soldier on the other end tried saying as calmly as possible with a laspistol held to the back of his head.  
"What happened?"  
"Just please come back." His voice had a slight sobbing sound in it.  
_That doesn't sound good._

Facing the rest of the transports, Graic rotated his wrist with a raised finger, indicating the other Chimeras turn around. Something was clearly wrong. Pondering it, he suddenly realized why he was really returning to the Basilisks.  
_They turned around and captured the artillery crew. _  
"FASTER! IT'S A SETUP!" The Inquisitor yelled, repeating it into the vox's microphone, the vehicles immediately responding by increasing speed, causing Backett to stumble.

Although he had caught on that the Sorority indeed captured the PDF soldiers left behind, he didn't know the second part of their plan until it was too late, when gunfire emanated from the backmost APCs.

Somehow, the enemy managed to outflank him. A large group of Sisters were running behind the two furthest back in the chevron formation, one getting onto the top of the Chimera, then opening the hatch and killing the commander, before reaching down and pushing the button that opened the back ramp, allowing another few Sisters to charge in and kill the rest. Each time this occurred, another group would move forward and repeat the process, taking advantage of the driver and forward gunners being distracted.

For once in many years as an Inquisitor, Graic was genuinely awed. A Khornate warband that was not only capable of stealth but also tactical acumen worthy of Lord Castellan Creed or even Macharius? He could probably retire now saying he'd seen everything. But at the same time, of course, Backett was furious. So furious, in fact, he was calm. Going down into the Salamander's hold, as the vox system went insane with cries for help, he looked across Colonel Loch and Zero-Six-Nineteen, then said,  
"Well boys, we've been played. By no less than a bunch of filthy fucking heretics. Yessir, they've played us like cheap Emperor's Tarot cards. I never thought in all my years as an agent of the Most Holy Orders of the Inquisition that I'd be outsmarted by mere cultists of the Ruinous Powers."

Quietly, the Witch Hunter drew his power sword.  
"Are we going down fighting, sir?" Private Tormen inquired.  
With a short "nope," he laid down the blade, doing the same with his bolt pistol.  
"What're you doing?"

Sighing, Backett began,  
"Y'see gents, I've been doing this for a long time. In every case I've been assigned I managed to complete my goal. Sometimes I myself have no idea how I did. I have encountered and survived the very worst the Galaxy can throw at me and the Imperium. I fought Traitor Astartes of almost every known warband, several types of Lesser Daemons, and even some of the Greater ones. Twice I've been effectively dead. And mortal cultists were always cannon fodder in those situations. Just something for us to waste ammo on. How is it that I did all those things when those same bullet catchers are wreaking havoc on us right now in a move Catachans would find impressive?"

The group stared at him incredulously.  
"Are you saying we surrender?" Private Khartur spoke up after a moment.  
"Let me remind you of an old saying, kid. "Victory requires no explanation. Defeat allows none." Do you really want to try and explain your way out of this if we survive? How you lost to a small group of heretical bandits when you had artillery and armored transport?"

Khartur dropped his lasgun almost immediately.

Then Malcaster. Followed by Yarden. Next was Tormen. Sergeant Boniface and Colonel Loch were reluctant, but agreed after a minute.  
"Driver, stop the vehicle." Graic ordered behind him. Once the Salamander halted, Backett added, "open the back door." The seven, added by the driver who got out of his seat, raised their hands.

With a hiss and a whir, the metal ramp slowly descended, allowing the occupants a view of their new captors.

Just like Artemis and the other dead girl from a few weeks before, these girls were skinny, dirty, yellow-eyed scum, with red hair patterns made from human blood. Except this group was armed, and many had the lovely addition of body parts as trophies of war.  
"See girls, I knew this last one would come to their senses." One sarcastically said as she, a dirty blonde in what looked like a Commissar's uniform, stepped into the Salamander up to the seven Imperials, addressing them with the same sarcastic tone,  
"So how are you boys doing this fine evening?"  
"We surrender." Was all the Inquisitor replied with, the others stone-faced with either fear or sullen acceptance of their fate.  
"Oh Inquisitor," the assumed leader referred to Backett's Seal he wore around his neck, "you flatter me."

Her tone darkened as she continued,  
"I do believe you'll _benefit_ us _greatly_ as our prisoner."

The last thing Graic saw before blacking out was the butt of a small storm bolter coming for the side of his head.

* * *

**So that's the end of the Pursuit Arc, and now begins the Captivity Arc.**

**When I came up with a way for Backett to be captured via BSOD at successfully fighting Daemons but getting outdone by cultists, I realized I was projecting my own tendency of oversight when on a good streak in something, and when I make that one little mistake, I too have a moment of despair/anger and have a bit of a defeatist attitude. Granted, it's not severe or long-lasting, but... Oh, wait. This is a typical behavior in most people. **

**Plus, in-universe (as far as we know), normal cultists usually are just cannon fodder or traditional armies (*cough Blood Pact cough*) in terms of waging war. Since we haven't canonically met any Chaos Cult whose MO is like the Sorority's, I assume the Big I has never really dealt with a nomadic one yet, and hey, at least just one agent found this out the hard way instead of a whole team.**

**If you all want me to rewrite this chapter though, just say so and leave a suggestion on what needs changing.**

**Other than that, the next Flashback in _Blood-Soaked Memories_ (whenever I finish it) will be Carnage.**

**Till then, buckos!**


	22. Chapter 21:Formal Introductions, Part 1

**Alright, a new chapter!**

**I really don't have much to say right now, other than I binge-wrote a story over the in the Assassin's Creed section called "The Letting of 1868." It's nothing spectacular, but give it a read if you're interested.**

**So here goes.**

* * *

_Chapter Twenty-One: Formal Introductions, Part One_

Inquisitor Backett could feel sunlight through his closed eyelids, causing him to crack them open. It was around late morning or midday, if he could guess. As his sense of touch woke back up with him, Graic felt himself sitting against something, but couldn't really look, because his hands and left temple felt strangely sticky.

Looking around using only his eyes, not only were his legs bound, but his right hand was glued (strong tree sap?) into a fist, gripping a string tied to his wrist. His left arm was making the "chicken wing" gesture, raised halfway and then curled back towards his head. The string went across his torso, then was threaded through the point of his bent elbow's sleeve, then ran along his forearm, Eurydice's Revenge glued to into his hand and the barrel to his temple, and the string was finally tied around the grip and trigger.

"Unless you got a death wish, don't move around too much." A feminine voice said in front of him. Rolling his eyes back over, he was presented with a blonde Sister in her early 20s sitting with her elbow on a knee across from him. She had a series of stripes cut into her arms, the pattern repeated with the blood in her hair, and around her neck was a gut-twisting necklace of several dried-out eyeballs. This fine specimen of humanity was called Tigress.

"Where are we?" was the first thing out of Backett's mouth, careful to avoid shooting himself.  
"We haven't moved much. You're sitting against one of those… what do you call them? Something with a B…"  
"Basilisks?"  
"Yeah, those things."  
"Where are the others?" Graic questioned again, with a bit of venom in his tone.  
"Over by one of the other ones."

He was a bit relieved at that, knowing most devotees of Khorne would have sacrificed them by now.

"I see our best guest has finally woken up." A second woman's voice came from nearby, the same one in the Commissar's uniform from the night before, walking towards them. Tigress simply got up and left, looking for her black-haired partner-in-crime Nyx.  
"Sleep well, Inquisitor?" Massacre continued, standing over the Witch Hunter with a smirk.  
"I'm surprised you haven't sacrificed us to your heathen god yet. I know how your ilk operates." Backett spat back, his expression belying anger.  
"Who said we weren't? We just gotta add some new future Sisters first. _Then_ we'll offer your blood and skulls to Khorne."  
"You disgusting trollops."  
"Haven't heard that one in a while. And I do have a name, Corpse-Slave. Mistress Massacre to you and everyone else."  
"Mistress, eh? You whip your underlings and tell 'em they're bad little girls?"

That insult earned Graic a stomp on his knee, given the way he was forced to sit, which made him yelp in surprised pain.  
"Next time I yank your arm and blow your fucking brains out, whelp. You're OUR prisoner, and you'd better fucking remember that." Massacre snarled, then strode off.

Backett watched her leave, smiling at his little victory once his leg stopped hurting. Heretics seemed to have far thinner skins than the average Imperial. _It's the Chaos worship. Makes them crazy_, he amusedly thought.

"Day-yum. You sure pissed her off." Another Daughter of Khorne spoke, this time a brunette in her late teens, as she appeared shortly after Massacre's exit.  
"And I suppose you have something to say about that, kid?" the Witch Hunter switched to a more serious mood. The girl grinned,  
"Nope, just sayin'. Name's Knives, by the way." She sat down, then pulled out a stiletto from the back of her belt, picking under her nails with it.  
"I can see that." Graic replied flatly, taking note of Blood and Gore on her hips.  
"So I think you know what's going on. The ones who're old enough are gonna have their girls with you, then we cut your throats. Hopefully I'm one who gets to do that part." Knives had just finished cleaning her last fingernail, and was now looking them over.  
"And I suppose you're absolutely ecstatic about the first part?" Backett snarked.  
"Too young." The 19-year-old answered, ignoring the sarcasm as she started picking her teeth with the same small blade.  
"Young? On some Imperial worlds you look like you'd already have a brat or two of your own."  
"We ain't like you Corpse-Slaves or those Slaaneshi mongrels. We have our daughters when we've lived half a life."  
"Meaning?" Artemis in her captivity told the Inquisitor very little about the Sorority of Violence, not that he particularly cared then. Nor did he now, he was simply conversing with them as a prisoner and later sacrifice.  
"We learned how to fight, then got to actually fight. That's 32 years." Knives explained, swallowing any plaque or old food her stiletto loosed from her pointed teeth.  
"Never thought heretics would eject their little vermin-spawn on a schedule. How enlightened of you Sisters."  
The brunette glared at him, pointing her improvised grooming device at him threateningly, "You'd better watch that mouth of yours. We might stitch it shut so you can't scream when a dagger's carving you open, bucko."  
"And when I get it re-opened by the PDF of this place I'm gonna laugh while they turn you all into chunky red paste." Graic shot back defiantly.

That sent Knives away from him, grumbling "fucker" under her breath.

* * *

Around noon, several groups of Sisters came out of the woods and the base of the mountains carrying some large animals they'd caught, shouting, "We got lunch!"

Watching them prepare it a few minutes later caused a growl to emanate from Backett's stomach. He hadn't eaten much yesterday, and nothing at all today. Hopefully one of them would remember to feed their hostages.

After a while, smoking meat could be smelled, and Graic's mouth began watering. Surely they knew he was there staring with hunger, and had to be mocking him. One blonde Sister ate quite ravenously once it was ready, though considering her almost emaciated build, and the fact that she had baggy, bloodshot eyes, it was understandable.

In fact, the same Sister, Frenzy her name was, came towards him with a bit of the meat, still eating her own off the bone with her free hand.  
"S'posed to feed you." She rasped.  
"How exactly am I going to do that? I'm practically holding myself hostage here." The Inquisitor sarcastically asked, only for Frenzy to tear off a chunk of the flesh and hold it in front of his mouth.  
"Eat." The blonde commanded.  
Sighing, Backett opened and let the meat enter. It was surprisingly good, though he wasn't sure if it was their cooking or the animal they caught, not that he'd wonder aloud.  
"Good boy." Frenzy commented as he chewed.  
"You felt absolutely no sense of irony saying that, didn't you?" Graic spoke after receiving another morsel. She only seemed to ignore him, giving him a few more pieces and increasing the irony by tousling his hair and wandering off.

_To think I got captured by these people._

* * *

**I'm gonna go ahead and say the next chapter will be similar to this, largely uneventful, mainly because Graic and the main ten Sisters (possibly Bonesaw, Frosty &amp; Skadi) are interacting for the first time and I want to write conversations between them.**

**The artist I mentioned last chapter who'll be drawing the Sorority cameo'd here as Tigress, and Nyx is is her real-life girlfriend. They may appear in the story again later on.**

**So yeah, expect another breather/filler/easy chapter, and feel free to check out The Letting of 1868.**


	23. Chapter 22:Formal Introductions, Part 2

**Alright, so, new chapter. Sorry for the lack of enthusiasm, I'm sick right now. But this didn't actually have anything to do with this chapter coming later than usual. I kept having to come up with these conversations and life was making it hard to do so.**

**Regardless, I was laughing to myself when writing some of these, and hopefully you will, too.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

_Chapter Twenty-Two: Formal Introductions, Part Two_

Not long after he had been fed by Frenzy, Inquisitor Backett was feeling the effects of being forced to sit the way he was for so long. Everything was cramping, his limbs were falling asleep, and the knee that got stomped on by Massacre was probably swelling. That, and he was mind-numbingly bored. Graic had been in multiple tight spots and experienced extreme pain before, but he could literally feel his sanity being gnawed at now more than any of those other times.

_I might as well just yank my arm and get it over with. Deny them a sacrifice, too._

"How're you holding up?" a skinny, older brunette in a jack-o-lantern surgeon's mask, Bonesaw, snapped his attention.  
"I assume you're the surgeon, so why don't you make me a woman and let me join you? My sanity levels are almost as low as yours." He answered sarcastically.  
"Sorry, that's not my forte. And I need to deliver your daughters eventually."  
"In that case, I'll pull this arm and kill myself. No kid of mine is gonna be a heretic like you."  
"Aw, don't do that," Bonesaw deployed her own churlishness, "That wouldn't be any fun. We were gonna dissect you and anoint ourselves with your blood in our hair and everything! Fucking killjoy."  
"Well if you don't want me to spoil your merriment, maybe you could tie me up differently so I don't?"  
"I see what you're getting at. You'd be mutilated before you even get out of camp." The Sorority medic sneered.  
"Oh damn," the Witch Hunter raised his pitch mockingly, "I was hoping you were gullible enough to fall for that."  
"Maybe if you didn't have such a smart mouth," Bonesaw also made her voice squeakier, "someone would've been dumb enough to let you out."

And that was that.

A short time later, a blonde, nervous-looking girl, Legion, sat against the Basilisk next to Graic clutching her head.  
"What's your problem?" He inquired.  
"The Voices. They won't stop and I want them to shut up today."  
"Oh great, you hear voices in your head. Any of them tell you to free the guy sitting right next to you?"  
Legion looked at Backett with one of the best death glares he had ever seen.  
"Actually," she growled, "they said for me to bleed you dry. And I think I'd enjoy that as much as they would."  
"I thought you were doing that later, after you have your litters fathered by me and the others."  
"Oh, I know." Legion stood up, The Voices apparently quieted, "some of your blood is gonna be in my hair then. I'll make sure I go last right before you die."  
_Wow._ The Inquisitor thought, _that was pretty good for a kid._ He wasn't entirely intimidated, but he still found her threat a tad creepy.

"You never cease to amaze me, Legion." A different brunette, with her hair thoroughly soaked in blood, more surrounding her mouth, spoke up, having heard their conversation.  
"What do you mean?" the blonde wondered, shifting her attention to the other girl, Bloodmaw. "That was mostly The Voices talking."  
"I dunno, that sounded pretty genuine. Normally you stopped aging mentally when you were a pup."  
"Who's she?" Graic murmured to Legion.  
"Name's Bloodmaw, boy." Said woman heard him, introducing herself, then continued talking to Legion, "Anyway, Legion, you ought to keep doing stuff like that and maybe I'll think a little bit more of you, instead of "scared little bitch" all the time."  
The blonde did not argue, instead giving Bloodmaw a raised middle finger as a parting sign.  
"You seem fun." Backett said to the brunette.  
"Why thank you. My hobbies are killing worthless fucks like you in the name of Khorne and telling everybody the truth about themselves."  
"That's funny. Mine are killing worthless fucks like you in the name of the Emperor and telling women I'll contact them the next morning."  
"Oh now that's cruel."  
"As opposed to cutting the men you force to sire your children open and running your filthy hair with their blood?"  
"Those slut-dogs you defiled would've done that to you once they found out you left them."  
"I doubt that, but okay."  
"Trust me, we girls got some serious tempers."

"BLOODMAW!" A black-haired girl roared, striding towards the pair.  
"Case in point." Bloodmaw muttered to Graic, then hollered back, "What, Carnage?"  
"YOU were supposed to be the one who'd watch Voyna's kid while she went hunting!"  
"What danger can a fucking baby get into literally surrounded by women?"  
"I dunno, someone could step on her or something! Just go take care of her before I slug you!"  
"Okay, fine." The brunette replied, walking off. "Bitch," she said to herself.  
"Real piece of work she is." Carnage watched the other female leave.  
"So are you." Backett snickered, amused by their petty squabbles.  
"I wasn't talking to you, smartass."  
"Well, you spoke out loud, so I assumed you directed it at me."  
"Whatever."  
Taking notice of the small scars on her arms, the Inquisitor asked, "So what's with the notches? Every time you got pissed off like that?"  
"These," the High Priestess lifted her limbs, "Are all the scum I sent to an early grave."  
Graic had to admit, the number he could see was fairly impressive, considering this girl couldn't have been much older than 20, even saying so.  
"I appreciate the compliment, Number 427." She had a villainous gleam in her left eye and an accompanying grin, leaving with thoughts of being the one to eventually kill him.

_427? _Backett thought, _that was a lot of scars, but I didn't think 426. She's probably exaggerating._

"That's the first time I ever heard Carnage say something nice in a while." He heard a voice close by, belonging to a blonde girl wearing an old red kepi named Executioner, who turned to face him, "And of all people it went to you."  
"Are you jealous?"  
"Not at all, actually. I could tell by the look on her face she wants to bleed you."  
"Don't you all?"  
"Yeah, but some of us can wait before we do what Khorne calls us to do."  
"Not for long, I assume." The Inquisitor said more to himself than to Executioner. Looking up at her, he saw a severed left hand impaled through a spike hung around her neck, making him add,  
"If that hand tells me anything."  
Executioner almost immediately got defensive, hissing, "You wouldn't understand what this hand means to me. One of your own stole my mother from me with it."  
Since she was a heretic, Backett didn't be sensitive as he replied, "Am I supposed to apologize?"  
The blonde's eyes began to wet with tears of vengeance, her mind flooding with flashbacks to that fateful day. "No, but your screams for mercy when we sacrifice you to Khorne will be good enough."  
"I've been getting threats like that all day, girl, but that was easily one of the best. Too bad it won't be fulfilled."  
"Oh, it will, Corpse-Slave. It will. Mark. My. Words." Executioner jerked her thumb across her neck, then left.

"I've been listening to a lot of those," A brunette giggled as she came from behind the Basilisk a few minutes later, signifying her as Lacerator, "And you're right. That was one of the best ones."  
"Is that so?"  
"Yeah, but you said some good ones back. Like with the Mistress, the whole, "you whip your underlings" thing. Fucking hilarious!" the psychotic brunette started laughing, "And when Bonesaw was over here and you both started talking in those squeaky voices… by Khorne, I was already close to hysterics!" Her laughter only got louder, making the Inquisitor give a terse, uncomfortable snicker,  
"You really think that's funny, don't you?"  
"Oh man, you have no idea! It's almost as funny as when you totally butcher someone! I mean, the blood, the limbs, their screaming… sometimes I wonder how I don't piss myself every time we fight!" Tears were already in Lacerator's eyes, as she could only take in breaths to substitute for each peal of insane joy.  
"You're absolutely out of your mind." Backett stated bluntly.  
"Better _out_ of my mind than _in_ that predicament!" she pointed at the way he was bound.  
"Touché." Was all Graic replied with.  
"Yup, when we sacrifice you is gonna be the highlight of this month for me."  
"I imagine."

Not long after Lacerator left, still chuckling from their conversation, the Witch Hunter felt his eyes droop. Night hadn't fallen yet, but the numbness of his body began affecting his brain. Carefully letting himself slouch, he figured he could at least take a short nap.

"Hey." A voice kicked him out of his sleep, startling him briefly. Backett looked up to see a blonde with a large hole in her right cheek, her teeth visible on that side. Cutthroat.  
"By the Emperor you're hideous." Was the first thing that escaped from his mouth?  
"We're moving out at dawn. Just telling you." She ignored the insult.  
"How the fuck did that happen?" he referred to the scar.  
"Oh, this?" the blonde sarcastically questioned back, briefly sticking her finger in it, "Knife got it. Don't worry, the guy who did it is dead."  
"That seriously is one of the most disturbing things I have ever seen. And I've seen some shit."  
"If it makes you feel any better, maybe I can get us to match once we get the sacrifices going."  
"That reminds me, when are you going to make me and the others father your next generation of rats?"  
"Tomorrow, most likely." Cutthroat answered.  
"Oh joy. I assume you gals are great in that regard." Graic pretended to be excited.  
"If you consider having a dagger to your throat the whole time fun, that is."  
"Oooh, kinky." He kept the fake enthusiasm.  
The blonde High Priestess rolled her eyes, "And you call us disgusting."

Once Cutthroat removed herself from his company, the Inquisitor was set upon by two Sisters, one blonde, one redheaded, the former, Frostbite, starting with,  
"So you're the one who's been trying to hunt us down."  
"Well, I'm the one who organized the hunt, yes."  
"And look at you now, you're our prisoner." The redhead, Skadi mocked.  
"Not for long though."  
"What's that supposed to mean? You think you're gonna get out of here alive?"  
"Hopefully. I'd wager you Sisters suck at being guards."  
Skadi was about to attack Backett, but Frostbite held her back, saying,  
"You can wait for that part. Those old enough still need to have daughters."  
"Yeah, listen to blondie." Graic cut in.  
"Hush, you. I can handle my sister." The blonde reprimanded.  
"You two are actual sisters?"  
"Half-sisters, really. But we're sisters all the same." The ginger answered.  
"So your mom had each of you with different men? Huh, says a lot about her, then."  
That made both Frostbite and Skadi pissed, causing them to simultaneously stomp on both of his knees.

The Inquisitor kind of regretted that last remark, for now his right knee was in pain, and his left was probably broken from a similar treatment from Massacre earlier. Once they both stopped hurting, though, he thought, _Interesting set, these Sisters._

* * *

**And that's it. The next few chapters will actually advance the plot, so you all have that to look forward to, and I think I have an idea for the ending (NOOOOOO, you all are undoubtedly saying). On another note, I've started writing the first chapter of _Chronicles of Bloodmane_, and contrary to what I've said earlier, it'll probably be more like a "mini-series" (i.e, ten chapters or less) than a long narrative. Oh, and Carnage's story for _Blood-Soaked Memories _is still on stand-by (I have published Executioner's flashback though, but few have actually read it).**

**Think I've said everything that needs saying. See you all next chapter!**


	24. Chapter Twenty-Three: In Hot Water

**Finally, a new chapter!**

**I genuinely do believe updates to this story are going to be much farther apart now as they've already been. College stuff is suffocating my free time and cramping on my creativity. **

**On a related note, Tigress (the artist I mentioned last chapter) said her art style wasn't suitable for the Sorority, Photoshop is out of my budget, and my own drawing sucks. So I guess that means you'll never get to know what the Sisters look like, not that I'm trying to guilt someone into drawing them (I'm really not, I swear).**

**But let's not be Negative Nancy here and enjoy the new chapter (BTW, please leave a review. I haven't gotten one in ages).**

* * *

_Chapter Twenty-Three: In Hot Water_

Inquisitor Backett felt a kick to his side again, waking him back up sometime after falling asleep the night before. Except instead of the Sister with the hole in her face, he was wakened by a slim dirty blonde dressed largely in black with her forearms wrapped in graying linen. Huntress.  
"We're moving." She stated curtly, pulling out a shiv of sharpened brass and cutting his leg bindings.

Graic's legs were too numb, and his knees still aching from the stomps courtesy of Massacre, Frostbite, and Skadi, for him to stand on his own as Huntress helped him up, then wrapped an arm around his side, holding him as though they were in a relationship.  
"And just where are we going, exactly?" the Witch Hunter inquired.  
"Still heading north."  
"No plan beyond that?"  
"Think the Mistress has a few maps on her. Guess we'll figure it out from there."

Now Backett's plans to make an escape had to deal with this new information that the Sorority had those maps. He had yet to speak to the Colonel, Zero-Six-Nineteen, and the other prisoners about them, but the original idea was to find a way to slip out under the cover of darkness, gather the troops still in Fusmouth along with reinforcements (especially the armored variety), and come back for the Sisters, who would undoubtedly look for them.

_This Massacre woman's a smart one._ The Inquisitor thought to himself, _if we got away before they kill us, she might not pursue because they can just navigate their way to a spaceport and somehow get off-planet. I do NOT want to stop and search every single ship in this damn Sector to look for them._

As he continued brainstorming, Backett was starting to find a solution to this dilemma. _If one of us managed to steal those maps, they won't know where to go. So we can still escape and get more men to finally crush these heretics. Question is how are we going to get them off of her?_

Odds were that they were very unlikely to have their hands freed, and were rarely out of any Sister's sight, making that hill much steeper. Graic wracked his mind thinking of a way to lift those documents from the Mistress, until Huntress interrupted him.  
"Forgot to give you breakfast."  
"Gee, thanks for your hospitality." He grumbled, remembering how little those scraps of meat yesterday satisfied his hunger.  
"Alright ya cranky git, I'll give you half." The black-clad Sister replied in the same tone of voice, unwrapping a ration bar, breaking it, and putting a half up to the Witch Hunter's mouth.

Taking a bite and chewing, he resumed his plotting. _Maybe I could… no… she's a psychotic enemy of the Imperium. But… hopefully the Emperor will let this slide since I'm in danger._ Backett himself couldn't believe he was resorting to flirtation and flattery on a _Khornate heretic_ of all people, but desperate times call for desperate measures. He was highly doubting it would actually work, having run into female Chaos cultists before, but if seeing the mothers of this cult act motherly to their little ones yesterday proved to him anything, it was that these Sisters did have a little warmth their black hearts, and maybe he could exploit that. Now he just needed an opportunity.

"Hey Mistress!" a dark-skinned girl shouted some distance away, running towards the main group of Sisters, "There's a few hot springs up ahead."  
"Really?" Massacre yelled back.  
"Yeah, they're warm enough to clean ourselves up." The scout replied.  
"Good." Huntress said to herself, "I could use a bit of bathing."  
"You mean you _need_ some. Seriously, you absolutely stink." Graic snapped both mockingly and seriously, for the Sorority as a whole smelled like a slaughterhouse in the middle of an especially humid summer.  
"Shut up, you."

The springs were situated across a dormant volcano, formed by geothermal heat that melted snow into ravines and depressions. It was largely unknown by the average population of St. Fu, since they generally stayed close to civilization. As such, it was a perfect place for the Sorority to take a break.

"You're staying here." Massacre led the captured Imperials to a large rock that was long enough for them to sit together and high enough to obstruct their view should they try and turn around, affording the Sisters some privacy. _Might as well start with something,_ Backett thought, already willing to put his plan into action.  
"Mistress… Massacre…" He said the words like they were cursed, "I apologize for my crude remark yesterday."  
The dirty blonde cult leader snidely grinned and replied, "I accept your apology, but that doesn't change your fate, Inquisitor. Bind their legs again." She ordered to some other Sisters.

Once she and the others left, Colonel Loch, Zero-Six-Nineteen and the other PDF men looked at him like he'd gone mad.  
"What the hell was that about?" the old regimental commander spoke first.  
"Listen men, we need to escape." Graic whispered, "One of them said the leader's got some maps of the area on her. If we steal them, it'll make destroying these heretical freaks much easier."  
"How do the maps play into us escaping, sir?" One of the artillerymen murmured back.  
"Suppose we escape tonight, assuming they make us father their children today. This Mistress of theirs might just say "fuck it" and look for a spaceport to get off-planet. If they can't find their way there, we'll catch 'em faster."  
"Oh. That's pretty smart, Inquisitor." The same gunner now understood.  
"Now how does that tie in to you saying sorry?" Sergeant Boniface asked the next question.  
"Well since we're tied up this way, conventional stealth's pretty much impossible. So maybe I can try charming her out of them."  
"Like that'll work." Tormen pessimistically countered.  
"Hey, it might. You all saw how the ones already with kids are, right? Acting like actual moms? They're still women, Tormen. I'm as skeptical as you, but maybe we can turn that against them."  
"If it does, Inquisitor, I think I'll have a genuinely interesting story for my memoirs." Loch sighed.

The dozen or so men sat in silence for a while, waiting for the Sorority to finish their bathing. Private Khartur briefly tried turning around, hoping for a peek, but the Inquisitor stopped him with,  
"Don't even think about it, kiddo. Either they put a bullet 'tween your eyes or I will when we get out."  
"Aw, don't be so hard on the kid, Inquisitor." Malcaster sarcastically cut in, "Our boy Eldan here hasn't got much experience with the fairer sex. Isn't that right, Khartur?"  
"Shut up." The now embarrassed young soldier weakly shot back.  
"I don't care if he secretly owns three hundred concubines. We can't think of these lunatics as anything other than the enemy." Backett snarled, unamused by their exchange.

Said enemy, unfortunately for them, was washing their clothes as well, drying them on warm rocks once they were somewhat clean, making the stop much longer. Most Sisters, even the younger ones, simply lazed about in the water, enjoying this rare luxury to its fullest.  
"So Mistress," Cutthroat began sitting across from Massacre, "Whenever we leave, what's the plan?"  
The dirty blonde rolled her eyes, "Oh c'mon Cutthroat, can't we just relax for a minute?"  
"Sheesh, just asking." The open-jawed High Priestess returned the expression.  
"I was joking. Anyway, I think we'll use our prisoners for their intended purpose tonight. Then we'll do as we always do and sacrifice them once the ones who bred are definitely pregnant."  
"And then what?"  
"I suppose we skip the planet, let the New Breed be born somewhere safe. I still got that messaging code those Sun Party people gave us."  
"Sounds good. You gonna tell 'em?"  
"Yup." Massacre removed herself from the water.

Backett, Loch, 0619, and the artillerymen were having déjà vu of yesterday as they sat up against the rock, limbs asleep and painfully bored.  
"Will they ever get out?" the Chimera driver groaned.  
"They'll have to eventually." A gunner replied.  
"It'll still take a while, fellas. Have you smelled these people?" said another crewman.

A minute or so later, after they went back into not speaking, the Mistress came up to them saying,  
"Today's your lucky day, gentlemen."

Had the circumstances been entirely different, a fairly good-looking woman with her hair still wet (the blood in it, however, didn't wash out) and wearing a Commissar's greatcoat like a bathrobe (meaning she'd buttoned it up) would have been an enjoyable thing to see.  
"You're going to conceive Khorne's future soldiers tonight." She continued, then left as quickly as she arrived.

None of the men uttered a single word.

* * *

**I wasn't intending to make Massacre address the men wearing only her buttoned-up greatcoat be sexy (if you found the thought of it to be) at first. I was thinking along the lines of, "ok, she just got out of water, her clothes are drying, and she's obviously got to protect her modesty." Then as I imagined that scenario, I realized it was kinda hot, and figured the guys would feel the same way. So it was bit of fanservice I didn't plan on writing in from the get-go.**

**Other than that, thanks for sticking with me and remember to review!**


	25. Chapter Twenty-Four: Exchanges

**Hey look. _Sorority_ updated, you were probably thinking. And I must say, it feels good to have the main story going back on after finishing _Chronicles of Bloodmane_ (go read it if you already haven't). Sorry peeps, I was finishing my last math class before I transfer over to a bigger college (which finally accepted me, thank God), and have been swimming through all the bureaucratic nonsense accompanying it.**

**But enough about me. I want to keep this story "alive" somehow during these stretches of no plot advancement, so y'all aren't just stuck waiting, and I have two ideas: Me and the characters take questions from you lovely readers, or I post those alternate universe stories I've wanted to post but have no real outlet for doing so.**

**I'll let you guys be the decider on that, but for now, here's the new chapter!**

* * *

_Chapter Twenty-Four: Exchanges_

After what seemed like hours, the Sorority of Violence was ready to move on, getting dressed, packing up, and regathering the prisoners.

The cult continued their trek for the rest of the day, walking north until the sun dipped below the horizon once more.

Colonel Loch and his men were tired, sure, but Inquisitor Backett was totally miserable, on account of his still-sore kneecaps.

He was quite ready to sit down, hoping to be close to the Mistress in order to try and steal her maps somehow, which was going to be a bit easier with the sap holding his hands into fists and the barrel of his pistol to his temple losing its stickiness.

"Alright girls," Massacre announced as the Sisters stopped in another forested area, "Everyone old enough needs to get this over with tonight. Take the men out somewhere hidden."

_Fuck_. Graic thought, simultaneously dreading what was about to happen. His comrades also wore expressions of fear, as they were led away from the main group out into the trees.

* * *

Once the twelve prisoners and the of-age Sisters disappeared into the woods, the dirty blonde Mistress sat down next to a fire one of the others had already prepared, pulling out several of the various papers stuffed into the inner pockets of her Commissarial greatcoat and looking them over.

Studying the map of Fusmouth's province Liberation, she pinpointed the Sorority's current location roughly above the Cold Talons mountain range, and a good distance beyond that was the Confessor's Gate spaceport, their current objective in reaching. Once they would arrive, the plan was to force an Astropath to message any of the many ships who traded between the worlds of Nemea and St. Fu with the code the Nemean Sun Party gave them. Most captains leaving that world were members of the Party, making a successful escape off-planet much more likely. Plus, they had the added bonus of three more years of free transportation across the Phlegyas Sector, due to the contract Massacre negotiated with the Inner Circle.

"Where exactly are we, Mistress?" Bonesaw inquired as she walked over and sat down, leaning next to the chief Sister.  
"Right about here." Massacre pointed to a spot on the map.  
"That the port we're trying to get to?" the combat doctor levied a finger at a small drawing of the Confessor's Gate.  
"Yup. Once the breeding Sisters test positive we'll sacrifice the men. I think we can ditch this little mud-ball before the rest of these Corpse-Slaves realize what's happened."  
"We probably could, unless the boys somehow escape."  
"I think our girls can handle twelve men that are in danger of shooting themselves in the head."  
"That's true. Even if they had to skip a good scrap for six months to make themselves more fertile."  
The dirty-blonde Mistress snickered, then got up and said, "Hold on to those for a minute. I'm gonna try and get some more of whatever critter that was from yesterday."

* * *

Backett, Loch, 0619, the Salamander driver, and the four Basilisk gunners were subjected to the most surreal experience any of them could have ever comprehended for about two hours. About three times their number of Sisters had dragged them off to a clearing a good distance away from camp, sat them down on blankets (there was snow on the ground), pulled down their trousers to their knees, and that was how it went.

The Sisters not engaged in "it" faced away, waiting to get this thing over with. When the next Angel of the Blood God came up, they typically left one leg of their own pants around an ankle, held on to the arm holding each man's string to their pistols and maintaining stone-faced eye contact, then got off. Once they were done, they'd simply redress and head back as though nothing happened. Each man was subjected to this three or four times.

No force, no malice, no talking. Just business.

The trauma of this would came back for them soon enough, but currently, the twelve Imperials were totally blank, unthinking and unfeeling.

The last twelve Sisters picked their slack bodies off the ground, put their pants back up, and then began walking them back to camp.

Unconsciously, the Inquisitor tried to wriggle the fingers on his left hand, actually feeling them move now that the resin no longer stuck them to Eurydice's Revenge.

His mind returned after several seconds, realizing they were working properly once more.

Graic tried his right. They were moving, nullifying the tautness of the string tied to the trigger. Twisting his left wrist, the barrel of his pistol came free from his temple.

Luckily, the Sister escorting him didn't notice, and a plan quickly began compiling in his mind.

Darting his eyes over to Colonel Loch next to him, he waited until the older man felt his gaze and looked back, then moved his left fingers again at him.

Loch's eyes widened silently, and immediately tried moving his own, finding that they could respond.

Backett directed his eyes towards the other men, effectively telling the PDF Commander, "check if theirs can," then repeated the wordless message to the artilleryman to his left.

The Daughters of Khorne were too focused on getting back to camp as soon as possible to look at all this, allowing the twelve Imperials to take them completely by surprise as they quickly and forcefully used their right arms to put the women in a headlock, then reverse who had a pistol barrel jabbed into their heads.

"Shut up and keep walking." The Witch Hunter coldly muttered to the Sister who was walking him, now his hostage.

* * *

"MASSACRE!" The Mistress heard Backett roar, as he came out of the woods with Colonel Loch, 0619, and the other PDF troops in tow, her comrades in their grip.

Needless to say, the rest of the Sorority was just as surprised as their leader was to see this, immediately drawing their weapons in case something were to happen.

Massacre, however, regained her composure.

"Wow Inquisitor, I'm impressed." She snidely remarked.

"Good thing that tree sap you put on our hands lost stickiness, right?" Sergeant Boniface added.

"I don't think this could have been possible by anything other than that, Corpse-Slave." The dirty blonde Khornate shot back.

"Exactly. Now let us go and we'll let them go." Graic commanded.

"Well… you did father some future Sisters…" Massacre seemed to think, smirking sarcastically, "and we might need them… and you did get lucky… sooo… sure."

She figured they wouldn't be able to muster a proper pursuit force in time to catch back up with them before they got to Confessor's Gate, considering they'd have to get all the way back to Fusmouth and wait for the actual men and materiel to arrive.

"Not so fast." The Inquisitor tightened his grip on the Sister under his arm, "Take off your jacket."

"And leave a lady vulnerable on a cold winter night like this?" the Mistress's grin widened, sarcasm becoming thicker, "well to be fair, you did get to see me using it as a bathrobe earlier. I assure you, I'm fully clothed underneath now, pervert."

Some of the other Sisters snickered at the joke, making Backett roll his eyes and reply,  
"Not what I meant, you tramp. If it bothers you that much, then give me everything in your pockets."  
"Hey all of you who were just with him," Massacre called out to said Daughters of Khorne, "Are you sure he's actually a man? Sounds like he needs some of my feminine essentials."

A fair amount of the cult now laughed at the quip. _These little…_ Graic was thinking, before simply barking, "Just empty your fucking pockets or I blow her fucking brains out."

"Alright, alright, down boy."

As the dirty blonde removed the papers in the pockets of her coat, she remembered that Bonesaw had the map and messaging code, having told her to keep them while she got dinner. She'd also talked with several Sisters, then rejoined Bonesaw right before the Imperials emerged from the woods. _That's what he wants_. Taking the last few notes out, Massacre handed them over to the Witch Hunter with a smart "here ya go, all the contents of my pockets."

Flipping through them with his free hand, there was nothing that resembled a map.

"Where is it?" Backett snarled, dropping the sieve and pressing the barrel of his pistol harder against his hostage's head.  
"Where's what?" the Mistress asked with fake naiveté, making doe eyes for effect.  
"One of your girls said you have a very important document."  
"I said I _thought_ she had something." Huntress hollered to him, due to the distance between them.  
"Yeah, Inquisitor. _Thought_ I had some 'important document.'" Her leader kept the charade up, making the Witch Hunter's temper that much closer to snapping. "Look man," Massacre continued, "You served your purpose giving us some new daughters, and you managed to turn the tables on us fair and square. I'm offering to let you go for that, so let's just settle it there."

"Sir, I'm kinda inclined to agree with her." Yarden spoke up.  
"Yeah, no need to drag this out. We're coming back for them, right?" the Salamander driver added.

_Of course we are. Wait, if they do try and get off-planet… no need to chase them, we'll just wait for them at the closest spaceport. Why didn't I think of that earlier?_ Graic thought to himself.

"Alright, we'll leave." He released his Sister, and the other men did likewise.  
"Smart man." The dirty blonde Mistress offered a hand, "Pleasure doing business with you."

Backett, of course, refused, snapping the string and holstering Eurydice's Revenge. "You're not gonna get very far. We'll be back, and we're gonna make you regret all this."

"The first part I have no doubt about, the second… eh, questionable." Massacre smirked, knowing this wasn't over by a long shot.

"Let's go, men." Graic ordered, still looking his adversary in the eye.

She only mockingly blew him a kiss, following it with "later, boys."

* * *

**I'm starting to think Massacre and Backett are made for each other. Not because I happened to find her model hot (I'm Backett, if you remember), but the way these two interact kinda does suggest a deeply hidden mutual attraction. That's not canon, by the way, just figured someone else would think that. First straight ship in this story, I guess.**

**And please forgive me if the bit with six months to regain fertility and how quick it takes for a woman to test positive for pregnancy are inaccurate. I'm gonna cop-out and say this is a work of fiction set 38,000 or so years in an increasingly dark, violent future, so I assume in that time women became increasingly stronger and more durable biologically, and medical breakthroughs also aided in that. I'm not a doctor, so don't quote me on it, though.**

**Anyway, if you all want something for me to do with this when I'm not writing the story, like Q&amp;A or reading alternate-universe stories, please let me know.**

**Adios, amoebas (Gary Larson came up with that).**


	26. Chapter Twenty-Five: A Long Night

**I'm back baby!**

**Man, I can't tell you how good it feels to have finally come up with Chapter 25. I must admit though, it is pretty short, but I do think I did a better job writing a more emotional scene. And it focuses solely on Inquisitor Backett and the PDF boys, so no Sisters.**

**Some time next week I'm reposting the page asking you all what you want to do between updates, likely adding any new ideas I've had in regards to alternate universe stories that have some degree of development. If you want, I'll also put the modern interpretations of Sisters back up if you want to read those again.**

**But anyway, welcome back to _Sorority_, everyone, and enjoy the new chapter!**

* * *

_Chapter Twenty-Five: A Long Night_

The twelve captives of the Sorority of Violence sojourned quietly under the moonlight. None spoke, only the sound of snow crunching under their boots filled the air.

It was all so bizarre.

What started off as an unusual disruption in the status quo, when an outlying post in the west of Liberation was raided, soon turned into a military mobilization on a scale St. Fu hadn't seen for years.

And now, now they weren't sure what to think of it.

The twelve were captured, by no more than a pack of bandits, and forced to provide them with new members.

Despite their brief resurge in defiance, aided by their bonds weakening, and haggling for their release, the realization of what occurred to them crept back into their minds.

It did not help that Colonel Loch, Sergeant Boniface, Tormen, and several of the gunners had children of their own. Now they had to live with the knowledge that their sons' and daughters' half-sisters, conceived against their fathers' will, would one day grow up to be butchers of men in the name of Mankind's greatest enemy.

Even Inquisitor Backett, with all of his experience in what the Galaxy, and especially Chaos, were capable of, was not immune to the feelings of defilement, shame, and guilt.

A noise sounded behind him.

Slowly turning, Graic saw Eldan Khartur, the kid PDF trooper, curled into a ball on the ground, weeping.

The other soldiers paused, watching on the verge of tears themselves. Especially Malcaster, who teased his young comrade earlier that day, feeling even guiltier now.

Colonel Loch sat down next to the boy, carefully putting a hand on his shoulder. Khartur reached up and wrapped his arms around his CO, burying his face into the older man's side.

Backett felt his own eyes start to water, seeing himself in this heart-wrenching sight.

* * *

_He was 15. It started off like a normal day at his Schola. Graic entered his room, where the instructor took a roll call. He and his fellow students then stood and reaffirmed their oaths to the Emperor. Right after they sat back down, everything becomes a blur in the Inquisitor's memory._

_Explosions._

_Screaming._

_Heat hotter than anything he had ever experienced._

_The building shaking._

_The room collapsing._

_He was thrown against the back wall._

_Then he blacked out._

_Regaining consciousness, Backett slowly blinked awake, finding himself on the floor, surrounded by debris._

_A few arms and legs poked out of the various piles of rubble, those far less fortunate than him._

_Gasping in terror, and regaining his breath, Graic tried to get up, which was difficult, for his limbs had yet to fully wake up with his brain._

_Eventually, he managed to stand, taking in his surroundings._

_The front of the room was nothing more than a hole leading out to the rest of the building, with parts of the internal framing twisting out._

_He felt something on the back of his head, putting a hand there and drawing back to find blood and dust._

_When his ears started working again, Backett heard noise in the distance. More explosions. The barking of gunfire._

_Stumbling forward, the boy carefully stepped over what was left of his classmates and their impromptu graves, not daring to look at them._

_Going through the hole in the wall, he came into what remained of the Grand Hallway perpendicular to his classroom._

_The gigantic stained glass window of the Emperor, across which twenty could stand along the bottom, was shattered._

_Every time Graic walked past it, he could feel the Master of Mankind's stern, piercing gaze on him, as though the magnificent image compelled him to strive further, while also demanding his dedication._

"_You are my servant today, and someday my soldier," it seemed to say in the voice Backett imagined the Emperor once spoke in, when he walked among the great Legiones Astartes of legend, "And my soldiers never surrender to anything."_

_Now, there was nothing._

_No encouragement._

_Just sunlight pouring itself into the ruined building._

_Looking up at what little remained of the window, the boy felt the leaden cloak of despair wrap itself around his trembling shoulders._

_His knees weakened._

_He wept._

_For how long, he didn't know, but Graic suddenly heard footsteps._

_To his right, out from a corridor branching off the Grand Hallway, several people ran towards him, stopping when they saw the kneeling, weeping student._

_In front was an older man, his hair and beard showing grey. Next to him stood a slightly-younger woman, wearing a hood covering her messy reddish hair. On the old man's opposite side stood a heavily-scarred, hard-faced man wielding an Adeptus Arbites shotgun. Behind them stood three Militarum Tempestus troops, brandishing hellguns._

_Neither they nor Backett spoke, staring at each other with uncertainty._

_He felt something in his head, as though a worm were crawling around in it. The hooded woman had a hand raised in his direction, probing his mind to evaluate whether or not he was a threat._

_After several minutes, she lowered her hand, and with it the sensation left._

_The Psyker slowly stepped forward to the boy, careful not to frighten him in his traumatized state._

_Graic looked up at her with red, bleary eyes, unsure what to think._

_She knelt down next to him, his eyes following. The red-haired woman's expression became one of sympathy, raising her hand once more, Backett flinching slightly before realizing she had merely placed it on his shoulder._

_He lightly took hold of her hand, grateful for the small act of kindness._

_Her other arm raised, allowing him to sink himself into an embrace, burying his face into her shoulder._

"_It's okay." He heard her whisper._

* * *

Wiping the tears away, the Inquisitor tried to regain some of his formidability, saying,  
"We need to keep moving."  
"Give the kid a minute, for Emperor's sake!" Malcaster snapped in belligerent grief, his tears flowing freely.  
"They'll be able to get off-planet in a matter of days. We need to get back in order to stop them."  
"Stop them? _Stop them?_ They just fucking _raped_ us, Inquisitor! _After _they outmaneuvered us like fucking Catachans! How in the _Warp_ do you think we have _any_ chance of stopping them now?"  
Backett started to reach for Eurydice's Revenge. "I oughta shoot you for insubordination, Malcaster."  
"Go ahead, fucking shoot me." The mutinous PDF soldier snarled, "It won't matter in the end. We're all gonna have to live with the fact we just fathered more enemies of the Emperor."  
"Don't make me do this, trooper." Graic cocked his pistol.  
"Do it, you son of a bitch." Malcaster spread his arms wide, daring the Witch Hunter to pull the trigger.

"Laius…" Private Yarden put a hand on his comrade's shoulder, "The Inquisitor's right. We need to keep going."  
"And catching them means those future enemies of the Emperor will never be born." Boniface added.

The hostile soldier began to relax his stance, realizing the truth of the sergeant's words.  
"You're right." Laius finally said with a sigh, turning back to Backett and saying, "I'm sorry."  
Graic holstered the bolt pistol, replying, "Apology accepted. Private Khartur," he turned his attention to the young PDF trooper, who had begun to stop his crying, "Get up. If we leave any of them alive, I'll let you personally execute the ones who did this to you, I promise."

The rest of the men widened their eyes at the proposal, which prompted the Witch Hunter to make a bolder statement,

"And the same goes for all of you."

* * *

**So how was it? If my rather dry, laconic writing style didn't really get much out of you, that's okay. I'm always open to tips and suggestions on how to convey emotion through text.**

**Going back to what I said up top, I'll post a revised version of the "what should we do while waiting for new chapters?" page and possibly the modernized Sisters descriptions sometime next week.**

**On another note, I might delete and eventually re-release "Sororitize Yourself," that guide I made awhile back for creating your own Sister. But I might not do the second part, unless you want me to so they can be mentioned in the story.**

**Whatever happens till Chapter 26 is posted, Sgt. Curbstomp (I'm probably gonna change my pen-name) is signing off.**


	27. Space Between

Hey readers,

I'm reposting this list of things we can do to fill in the time between new updates to _Sorority_, with a few changes as seen below.

To reiterate the old and introduce the new ideas, they are:

The Sorority, the Inquisitor, and myself take questions about things from readers. Ask whatever you want, just nothing too controversial.

Alternate Universe stories of the Sorority being published. I've had plenty of ideas as to what the Sorority would be like in other universes (if the Modern AU Character Interpretations tells you anything), and some of them are:

Due to a Warp jump gone awry, instead of St. Fu, the Sorority of Violence is taken to present-day Terra, specifically the United States (I tend to write what I know). It likely won't have a major, overarching conflict (as in, the national government (FBI, CIA, Dept. of Homeland Security/Defense, etc.) catches wind of them and tries to intercept them, garnering widespread media attention, because I'd probably get a lot of what the government would do wrong), more like how the Sorority would try and blend in.

A more humorous story where the main ten Sisters meet me, the author, and their ensuing escapades into modern life (the ten going to the beach, going shopping, and to Disney World with Frostbite and Skadi joining them for it, etc.)

Short one-shot stories of the Modernized Sisters interacting with one another (typically it's them all meeting each other for the first time). I'll put the Modernized descriptions back up if you're interested in this.

A sort of recursive story where the Modernized Sisters contract a supernatural illness that slowly turns them into their 40k versions.

I hate to say it, but I've imagined Massacre, Carnage, Huntress, Knives, and Executioner like "that" (primarily with each other. Don't kill me please, I'm only a man). If you'd want to read *ahem* _stories_ featuring those five, I'm sending that shit to you privately. Just message me about it.

Instead of that, you can suggest a prompt of your own devising for me to write, in any sort of setting (though crossovers with other media probably won't be written if I'm not familiar with the material). Shipping will be allowed, either between the characters or with the reader (again, if it's too heated, I'm sending it to you privately).

So again, if you want to read something new whenever you're waiting for the next chapter (as opposed to rereading old ones, if you ever do that), just leave a review or send me a message saying what sounds interesting to you.


End file.
